ELECTION DAY
by SANDEFUR
Summary: Fifth season ends.
1. Chapter 1

ELECTION DAY

by

SANDEFUR

(Disclaimer: This is fan fiction just for fun. I have no claims.)

11-4-08/Tuesday, 2:00 a.m.

Grace Girardi approaches Arcadia in her astral projection form. It has been a long time since Grace has used this method of travel for personal reasons, but her absence from her husband has made her wistful for Luke even though they talk and text every day. When Luke returned to Boston for the fall semester, Grace volunteered to stay behind to help the Girardi household during this very busy time. Helen was in frantic mode due to her numerous portrait painting commissions and having to make as many campaign stops as possible to help Will get elected mayor. Grace saw the need and stepped in to help run the house and care for her 17 month old sister-in-law, E.T. Unable to stand not seeing Luke during these two long months, Grace has made a brief visit to Boston to watch Luke and hear his faint snoring, which use to annoy her but now she finds it difficult to sleep without that sound.

As Grace descends toward Euclid Avenue, she pauses as she notices two identical dark vans parked across the street. A group of men in black outfits and carrying silenced weapons exit the vans. Alarmed, Grace lowers to where the men are gathering, confident that she can not be heard or seen. The obvious leader of this group of…eight men holds up a photograph and adresses his soldiers.

"Once last look, this is our target. I remind you, she is to be taken alive or we don't get paid."

("Holy crap, that's Joan!") Grace loudly exclaims, her words unheard by all.

The leader continues, "That's her bedroom, the one on the second floor, left corner of the house."

One of the other men asks, "What kind of opposition can we expect?"

"Hopefully we will be able to do this undetected, but there are three other adults inside and two small kids. The man is an ex-cop and probably armed. If things go bad, you are authorized to kill the other adults. Anyone who shoots a kid will answer to me, got it?"

The other men solemnly nod their agreement.

"What about the phones, Number Five?"

Another man replies, "The landline has been cut and the jammer is on. No cell phone in a two block radius will work."

"Alright, let's do this. Number Four, keep watch with the vans."

As the seven other men begin to slowly, stealthily approach the Girardi house, Grace flys toward her bedroom. She must reconnect with her body and warn the others. Suddenly, just as Grace reaches the house, she is startled to see her path is blocked by another person in astral form. He is young, probably around 16, and his appearance is vastly different from Grace's. Whereas Grace always travels in a flowing white gown that masks all but her face and hands, this kid is gowned in a tattered outfit of charcoal grey. He has the look of a lunatic, but there is something about him that is far more evil than mere craziness…

"Surprised? Did you think your side was the only one who has this ability?" he laughs.

"Get out of my way."

The teen laughs again. "Make me!"

Grace only hesitates a moment. They are in an unsolid spiritual state, unable to interact physically with anything. Grace moves forward rapidly, intending to go through this weird guy, but to her surprise, he throws a punch at her midsection and Grace crumples over in pain.

The kid smiles at the sight of her discomfort. "Oh yeah, we can touch each other in this state. Back off blondie, I'm not going to let you interfere with this little raid."

Grace grimaces before glaring at the guy with an anger she has rarely known. "You're between me and my kid!"

With a scream of rage, Grace charges…

Two minutes later, Grace enters her room, sees that Annie is sleeping peacefully, and then returns to her body. The fight with the unknown kid was quick and animalistic. Grace tore into the teen with teeth, clawing fingernails, punches and kicks. When last seen, the dark astral form of her opponent was fleeing eastward, howling with pain and fear. As Grace's body awakens, she assumes the pain will be gone, but she is wrong. With a moan of agony, Grace struggles to her feet and manages to stagger from her bedroom (Kevin's old room) to Joan's room. She does remember not to put on any lights. Without knocking, Grace quietly enters…

"Joan…" Grace begins to whisper, but Grace sees that Joan is already awake and has slipped on a set of black jogging clothes. She is removing from an open strongbox a stun gun.

"Grace, are you okay?" Joan whispers back, seeing her best friend limp into the room.

"Yeah, I…fell out of bed. Joan, there are armed men out there!"

"I know. I…heard them."

"We have to warn your dad. He still has his old revolver…"

"No. If those commandos realize anyone is awake, they could rush in and kill everyone. They're only after me. I'll lead them away and everyone else will be safe. Grace, no lights and no sounds. Don't awaken anyone else or you could get the whole family killed."

Joan opens the window to her bedroom and grabs the drainage pipe that is next to it.

"Will this hold me?"

"It always held me, and I weigh more than you do."

Joan nods and is quickly gone from view. Unable to stand any more, the pain wracked Grace sags onto the bed. She notices the open strongbox and the first item on top: a government i.d. badge that identifies Joan A. Girardi as a consultant for Homeland Security. Beneath that is a presidential citation thanking Joan for her service to her country, signed by George W. Bush.

"Oh my God, Joan is a spy?"

Reaching the ground by way of the drainpipe, Joan sees she has landed only a few feet away from one of the men who are about to invade her home. Angellicaly trained in both stealth and hand-to-hand combat, it takes Joan only a moment to deliver a devastating knockout blow to the man's brain stem. He will be out for at least an hour, and unable to move for several hours more. Joan retrieves from the fallen man a 9mm pistol and a submachine gun, both with large silencers attached.

Moving with far greater stealth than her opponents are capable of, Joan slips from shadow to shadow until she manages to cross the street to where the two vans are parked. Using the pistol, Joan shoots out a tire on each of the vans. The guard with the vans emerges only to receive a blow from the butt of the submachine gun that shatters his jaw, followed by a kick to the leg that snaps his kneecap. Joan is in no mood to be merciful to these men who are a danger to her family. Two down.

The gunshots were silenced, but the two popping tires made a lot of noise. The six remaining men turn toward the sound and recognize their 'target'…giving them the finger. Joan flees, heading for midtown park, three blocks away. She needs to get away from any inhabited area to prevent civilian casulaties, and that far from her house, her cell phone should work again. Her pursuers are fast, but not as fast as a 20 year old in the best shape of her life, who trains regularly with an angel who has a drill instructor's approach to conditioning.

Joan reaches the park and takes shelter amongst the trees. She waits for her rapidly approaching foes, trying to pick them out in the darkness. Too bad the demons that normally influence these men have fled in the face of an instrument of God. It is how Joan knew of their approach even in her sleep, and it would make targeting her enemies a lot easier in the dark. Joan checks her phone, but it still won't work. She should be out of range of their jammer by now, unless someone is carrying a close range, personal jammer nearby… Joan detects movement as the six men have reached the park and are beginning their cautious approach. Given basic instruction in automatic weapons by Homeland Security, Joan rises up and fires a half clip of bullets at the enemy…but she can not stop herself from firing high into the trees. As much danger as she is in, Joan can't bring herself to kill.

Joan ducks back as the six men drop to the ground, a few return rounds smacking the tree she is behind. Slowly, professionally, they move from tree to tree, closing in on Joan's position. Joan switches the gun to semiautomatic fire and waits, knowing that this time she will have to kill or be killed. Can she do it? Suddenly, Joan hears a brief struggle followed by a scream of terror that is quickly cut off. Voices begin to shout in the darkness about what is happening, but each of those voices is silenced in moments. Although she cannot see what is happening, Joan is very aware of the spiritual situation. The evil reek of bloody death is unmistakeable. Vampire!

When the last of the commandos is dead, the vampire confidently approaches Joan. He looks to be in his mid thirties, but from the evil exhuding from his body, Joan would estimate the 'man' to be about ten times that age. Joan has met some vampires who have retained a lot of their humanity, but not this one. He revels in the fact that he is a powerful, blood-sucking monster. The vampire is dressed much like the deceased commandos, but he is 'vamped' out with fangs exposed and his eyes all white. As the vampire licks blood from his lips, Joan notices that he has no weapons but for some curious reason he is carrying a long aluminum pole...

"I'm guessing you're not my rescuer?" Joan asks as she stands.

The vampire chuckles. "Hardly. That group of mercenaries was hired to capture you for a high price, but they were a little careless with loose talk about their assignment. The mercenary world is a small one and I soon heard about the easy money they were going to earn. So, I followed them with the intention of snatching away their prize. You put up a surprisingly good fight but tsk-tsk, turned chicken when you had the chance to pull the trigger on someone..."

As if on cue, Joan raises the submachine gun to fire into the vampire. No bullet can kill his kind, but if she can get one in his brain, he will be out cold for 20 or 30 minutes. Before Joan can pull the trigger, the vampire uses the long pole to knock the gun from her hand. As fast as she can, Joan pulls the pistol from her pocket, but with the same results. Still moving fast, Joan rushes toward the vampire - all she has to do is touch him once and he will be on the ground screaming in agony.

As fast and as well trained as Joan is, no one can match the speed of a vampire. He lowers the pole toward her and too late Joan realizes there is a snare at the end of it. It is a capture stick, the kind used by conservation officers to control dangerous animals. The snare tightens around Joan's neck, and instantly Joan is being choked by the thick plastic rope, the more she struggles the tighter it gets. Joan forces herself to calm down and stop struggling. The vampire gives her a tiny bit of slack and she can breathe again.

"Smart girl. I'd hate to loose that reward because I had to choke you to death."

"Who...who is going to so much fuss to capture someone like me?"

"There is a certain council of 13 who want to have a word with you, accompanied by a lot of torture I imagine, followed by your ritual sacrifice to their Master."

"A satanic cult? But I thought the government had wiped them out earlier in the year."

"They did. Dozens of world governments turned their forces upon the many cults that were scattered about the globe, capturing or killing nearly everyone of them. For most of the year, it was quite the topic of gossip in the dark circles I travel in. But these cults have existed for thousands of years, and this is not the first time they have endured persecution and near extinction. They are always prepared to go into hiding, changing identities and countries until the survivors can reunite. When necessary, they can always recruit more members. It's odd amongst you humans how easily you leap into the extremes of your religious wars."

"Look, you don't have to do this. We can make a deal."

"I'm listening."

"I can get you money, about half a million dollars, and I could be your...freshie. You could dine on my blood and I'd be willing to perform...other services too." Joan pleads, feeling revolted by the words coming out of her mouth.

The vampire smiles. "A tempting offer, but I doubt your sincerity. I have no doubt you are willing to touch me any way you can, but I was warned about your kind. One touch and I go down screaming in pain from what awaits me in hell. I'm not sure I believe it, but I'm not taking any chances. We are going to walk to my car where you will be locked away in the trunk. Give me any trouble...well, I have a bullwhip in my car and I won't hesitate to inflict a hell of a lot of pain on you. I only have to deliver you alive. I'm sure the satanic brothers of the cult won't mind if you are damaged goods."

"I won't give you any trouble." Joan says as she calculates her next move. Clipped to the back of her jogging pants is her stun gun - a particularly heavy duty model. The noose around her neck is a non-conductor but the aluminum pole will easily carry an electrical charge. All she has to do is zap the pole and that should at least stun the vampire for a few seconds - all the time she needs to touch her enemy and end this. Problem is, he is so quick, she must find a moment when he is distracted to make her move. Otherwise, the vampire will tighten the rope so hard, her head will be severed from her body.

"That way."

Like a dog on a tight leash, Joan is guided through the park and back toward the street. They pass the bodies of the mercenaries, their corpses twisted and torn apart by the ferocity of the vampire's attack. Joan shudders but tries to remain calm.

"We haven't been introduced. I'm Joan, and you are...?"

"No talking."

"An odd name. You know it's true, about what awaits you in hell. Not even vampires live forever and you will spend all of eternity in anguish. I have it personally from God that your kind are precondemned to burn..."

The noose tightens. "Shut up."

Barely able to breathe, Joan obeys. Besides, a new factor is at play in this little scenario. Just up ahead Joan can sense the spiritual signature of a man that is familiar to her... From his hiding place, the man fires a round from a silenced pistol. The sound of the vampire's body crashing to the ground is followed by Joan realizing she is free from the noose. Joan slips it away from her neck and tosses the capture stick to the side. She turns and sees her captor is now unconscious with a bullet wound in his skull. The other man walks by Joan, strikes a road flare and casually tosses the flame onto the body of the vampire. The fire is quick and intense and within a minute, the vampire is reduced to a pile of ashes and tiny bone chips.

Although relieved to be free of the vampire, Joan once again realizes she is not facing a rescuer. A year and a half ago Joan first met this man while being held prisoner in an L.A. warehouse. In those days he commanded a small army of militia type domestic terrorists ('freedom fighters' is how they would style themselves), a group called the Brotherhood of American Blood. This man was their leader, with the self-appointed title of 'General'. With a sigh and with a close eye on the gun in the man's hand, Joan nods a reluctant greeting...

"Hobart Smith."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

11-4-08/near 3:00 a.m., just outside of Baltimore.

Algernon Sloane rapidly descends to his room in the mansion that is on the outskirts of this upper class suburban community. His body is tormented by pain from numerous wounds endured in his brief fight with the astral form of that small blonde woman. How did she do it – defeat him so easily? He is far larger than her and a guy in great physical condition. Normally he should have easily beaten her to a bloody pulp…no wait, he was told about this during his instructions from his demon tutor. In astral form, your physical self has no effect on your spiritual abilities. It is the strength of the spirit that determines who is stronger. Getting between a desperate mother and her child was a definite mistake.

Algernon re-enters his body, grateful for the expected relief from pain but things don't work out as he has hoped. With a scream of agony, Algernon's body sits up in his bed – tears already forming in his eyes as he realizes to his horror that even in his physical body, his spirit body continues to feel the pain from his wounds. Algernon continues to howl in pain as the sound of footsteps rapidly approach. The bedroom light snaps on and enter…the buffoons.

That is how Algernon thinks of them, these distant relatives that he has been dumped on after his father, leader of the Canadian Council of 13, was gunned down while trying to flee authorities. A few months ago, all over the world, various national intelligence forces began tracking down the highly secret and supposedly unfindable satanic cults – the ones who have been causing chaos and pain worldwide for countless centuries. After his father's death, and after the police decided an 'innocent' 16 year old Algernon knew nothing of his father's monstrous activities, he was sent to the States to live with his only relatives. Angier Sloane, his father's cousin who never would have anything to do with his 'black sheep' relative, reluctantly accepted the guardianship of the teenage boy he had never met. Family duty has always been a Sloane tradition, and like the Canadian authorities, Angier and his wife Kay assumed they were helping a kid who knew nothing of his father's dark nature.

"Algy, what's wrong? Why did you scream like that?" Angier asks.

Algernon ignores the hated nickname of 'Algy' and replies, "The pain! Oh God, it hurts so much. Please, give me something to end this misery."

Kay Sloane asks, "Where is the pain, Algy? Is it your appendix?"

Stupid cow. "Can't you tell? Look at me! Look at my wounds!"

"What wounds?"

Algernon looks over to the mirror to point out the numerous bruises, bites and cuts that must be visible, but he sees that his body is free from any damage. Damn it, of course there are no visible wounds. His physical body has suffered no harm and worst of all, no natural pain killer can ease his agony.

Gritting his teeth, Algernon responds, "Wow, that was such a real...dream. In my nightmare I...was being tortured and felt so much pain. Even now, it seems almost real...like I was still in pain. Sorry to have disturbed you."

Angier and Kay Sloane exchange dubious looks. It has been a struggle to adjust to the troubled teen that has been in their care for only a month. They are unsure how to respond to this new situation. First a claim of pain, then a denial despite the fact Algy is shaking and sweating from obvious discomfort. They would suspect drug withdrawal, but one of the first things they did when this distant cousin arrived on their doorstep was to have him tested for drug use - completely clean.

"Are you sure we can't get you something, maybe aspirin?" Angier asks.

"No...I'll be fine. I'd just like to get back to sleep, please."

The buffoons nod their agreement, exiting the room while turning off the light. Algernon waits until he is sure they have returned to the master suite of this 'mansion'. It is hardly worthy of the word in Algernon's mind. He grew up with a far greater level of luxury, being groomed to eventually take his place on the satanic council as well as to take over his father's business interests one day. All of that is gone now, except for the hidden funds council members always keep for emergencies. In the meantime, he must endure with these poor cousins until he turns 18 and can access his father's Swiss bank accounts. ('Poor' being a relative term, even though Angier Sloane's stock brokerage firm took a hit in the economic meltdown of mid-September, he remains the wealthiest man in this awful little town of 'Lawndale'.)

Noticing that he is feeling a tiny bit better, Algernon realizes that like physical bodies, spiritual bodies eventually heal themselves too. It may take days before he is back to normal, but in the meantime he has his responsibility to the council. Removing a hidden, disposable cell phone from his backpack (blue and gold, school colors of the hated Lawndale High where he is attending because it was too late to get into Fielding Prep where the buffoons sent there own children years ago), Algernon dials a number known to only 12 other people...

"Your report is late." a voice on the phone says without any greeting.

"I ran into problems. I was injured."

"Injured? I thought it was impossible for you to be harmed in that 'astral' form thing you do."

"There's an exception..."

"No matter. Give your report."

"The mission was a failure. The subject eluded capture and our hired team are all down."

"How?"

"A couple were injured by the Gir..."

"No names!"

Algernon winces from his almost gaffe. He was briefed on how government computers routinely monitor millions of conversations, searching for key names and phrases. Apparently 'Joan Girardi' is on the list of key names.

"Sorry. The subject took down but did not kill two of our people, and the rest died at the hands of a vampire."

The man on the other end grunts his displeasure. "One of those. What of the subject?"

"When last seen, she was the prisoner of the vamp."

"When last seen? You didn't stay to watch how it all worked out?"

"I was in pain! Besides, he had her firmly under control. No doubt he plans to sell us...'the subject' for a high price."

"No doubt. Your performance in this matter has been inadequate. I warned the others you were too young to take your father's place, despite your unique 'gift'."

"I'll do better."

Another grunt. "Destroy this phone and wait for us to contact you again."

Algernon gulps. "Am I in trouble?"

"Your performance will be reviewed by the rest of the council. We will decide if your failure warrants...discipline."

The phone goes dead and Algernon dutifully snaps the disposable in half. He moans not just from his on-going pain, but from the fear of what the others might do to him. No, he musn't think like that. It's true the council rarely tolerates failure, but as long as they get their hands on this Joan Girardi, all should be well...

X X X X X

At that moment in Midtown Park in Arcadia, Joan Girardi faces a silenced 9mm pistol in the hands of a long standing enemy, Hobart Smith. The fact that he has just rescued her from a vampire is no reassurance of her safety...

"Miss Girardi, I've been looking forward to this reunion for a long time."

"Isn't this a risky move for you, General? You're on the F.B.I.'s most wanted list."

"I was, and you really should update your information more often. I'm now listed as 'captured and awaiting trial'. By the way, the 'General' title is long gone from my life."

"Captured? You seem to have a remarkable range of motion for a federal prisoner."

"That's because I surrendered myself to the authorities a couple of months ago and am now considered a 'Confidental Informant'. In exchange for my co-operation in tracking down terrorists, arms dealers and the like, I'll soon be in the witness relocation program."

"Okay, you've wiggled your way out of what you deserve for your crimes, which include murder and treason, but no way are the feds allowing you to run free with a gun."

"True. I picked this up from one of the men you took out when I decided to follow and see how you fared against those mercenaries. The vampire came as a bit of a surprise."

"And how did you just happen to be here at a critical moment?"

"I was included with the Homeland Security team that was dispatched to guard you since I was familiar with the mercenaries that were assigned to kidnap you. Needless to say we arrived a few minutes too late to prevent their attempted invasion of your home."

"Homeland Security is here? How did they know I was in trouble?"

"This particular bunch of soldiers for hire apparently have never heard the phrase: 'Loose lips sink ships'. They mentioned your name during some indiscreet phone conversations and Director Dunn keeps a close watch on any mention of you. Teacher's pet?"

"Sort of...unless you meant that in a dirty way. (Eww.) So what now, Hobart? Planning to use that gun on me?"

"You mean because you arranged the execution of over 300 of my men in L.A. last year?"

"You figured that out?"

"It wasn't hard. After I fled to South America, I began to hear the rumors of what happened that night. Unofficially a large contingent of special forces attacked my men and killed them all before they were able to begin their attack on Dodger Stadium. I soon realized that the deaths of my men occured during a less than half hour time frame, and no guns were used - not even silenced ones like this. Every man's throat was cut, but that was to cover up the massive blood loss from vampire attacks. It was the only explanation. It would have taken over a thousand commandos to do what happened, and a force that large would have been spotted. At least some of my men would have managed to lob a few mortar rounds into the stadium. But, how did you organize a vampire attack of how many...?"

"I heard there were around thirty who took part in what they call a 'feeding frenzy'."

"You're a strange woman. You cold bloodily arrange the deaths of my men, but tonight you couldn't bring yourself to shoot any of the mercenaries who were attacking you."

"The difference being, in Los Angeles there were tens of thousands of innocent lives on the line, but tonight, only I was at risk. Killing doesn't come as easily to me as it does to some people. Again, what do you plan to do with that gun?"

Hobart responds by slipping the gun into his belt. "Relax, I'm not here for revenge. I'm not even going to reveal your secret."

"Secret? You mean the fact that I do part time work for Homeland Security."

"No, the other secret - the big one. That you are an instrument of God."

For a moment Joan considers a denial followed by a charge of craziness, but she can read that Smith is confident in his statement. "How do you know?"

"During the time I was on the run, I met an old acquaintence of yours, your old psychiatrist."

"You know Dr. Dan?"

"An odd little man, but very informative. By comparing notes, we found that what we have in common is that whenever you show up, the nefarious schemes of villians soon fall apart: my attempt at a massive terrorist attack, Dr. Dan's attempt to start a war amongst this city's gangs that would leave him in control of the town's drug trade and of course your famous defeat of that antireligion nut, Ryan Hunter. After the Hunter affair, it came out that you briefly had the delusion of talking to God..."

"Because of Lyme disease."

"Yes, but while under treatment at 'Gentle Acres' you revealed that you had been having these 'delusions' for months, and you weren't just talking to God. You were given assignments as his personal instrument. Dan was begining to have his doubts as to what to think, but I became convinced you were telling the truth. I even tried to gain evidence of your status with God."

"So you did send that vampire, Pansy Schubert, to spy on me last December. I always guessed it was you."

"Her reports confirmed my beliefs, but she never showed up for her payment."

"I...had to kill her after she went rogue and slaughtered the satanic council that was meeting at a farm near Arcadia."

"So you can kill."

"Only to save lives. There was a young boy who's life was at stake, and then there was all of the other people Pansy would have killed if she escaped. Besides...God says vampires are precondemned to hell, so killing one of them isn't a blotch on your soul."

To Joan's surprise, Smith drops to his knees with tears in his eyes... "Oh thank God, not the blood of another on my hands."

"Hobart...?"

"After the satanic councils began to come under attack, they went looking for who might have caused this disaster. They found that last Christmas I offered to sell them an actual instrument of God for one of their ritual sacrifices to the devil. Since then, I haven't been running from the authorities as much as I have been running from the cultists. My life has been in danger everyday, and for the first time I began to contemplate what would happen to me after I died. I've been praying, asking for forgiveness but I don't know if someone like me can be forgiven. I decided I had to do the right thing even if it got me killed, but I am so scared! Miss Girardi, please, you know Him. Can you tell, am I going to hell?"

X X X X X

Half an hour later, an exhausted Joan climbs the drainpipe back up to her room. It had been difficult, but Joan managed to convince Hobart Smith that she isn't qualified to judge who is going to end up where in the afterlife. She did reassure the 'General' he was on the right track. A clean up crew from Homeland Security arrived and disposed of the six dead mercenaries and took the remaining two into custody. (No mention was made by Joan or Hobart of a vampire.) The vans of the mercenaries and all of their equipment was hauled away, only to be replaced by vehicles holding members of a Delta Force team who were charged with guarding the Girardi home and family until further notice. Joan is glad that her family is safe, but knows she will soon be getting a call from I.B. Dunn expecting a favor for a favor...

Joan finds Grace has fallen asleep on her bed, but even in her sleep she is making small sounds of painful discomfort. "Grace? Time to wake up."

Grace winces and moans as she awakens. "Joan...is it safe?"

"Yes, the danger is over."

"Joan, what the hell? How did you become a spy?"

Joan sits beside her sister-in-law. "Grace, you have to listen to me very carefully. Yes, I work for the government, but I can't tell you any details. Everything I do, even the fact that I am, to use your phrase, a 'spy' is all top secret. Grace, you can't tell anyone about this, not even Luke."

"Now wait a minute..."

"Grace, I'm deadly serious about this. If the government found out you knew my secret, your life would come under intense, constant scrutiny. And if they found out you told anyone, even your husband, you could be charged with treason. You know all of those conspiracy theories that you use to spout about a repressive, fascist government? You weren't that far off. If you are considered a security risk to the country, you can end up in a prison, locked away for months or even years without seeing your family or even a lawyer. Do you understand?"

Subdued, Grace nods her head as the scariest part of what Joan has just said is the bit about intense scrutiny. She has her own secrets, the kind Joan couldn't imagine, and she must think of the responsibility God has placed on her shoulders.

"I swear, I won't speak of this to anyone. At least this explains the weirdness in your life - the way you sometimes disappear for long stretches and show up with injuries you don't explain very well."

Grace stands, obviously still in pain. Joan comments, "Speaking of injuries, you're moving awfully stiff for someone who merely fell out of bed. Are you sure you're okay? Maybe we should get you to the emergency room?"

"Nah, a hot shower and some aspirin and I'll be fine. Goodnight Joan."

"Uh, goodnight."

Grace slowly, awkwardly walks back to her room. She is surprised to see Annie, age 2 years and 2 months, sitting up and waiting for her.

"Hey kiddo, what are you doing up in the middle of the night?"

"Yah-Yah woke me."

Grace sighs as she is in no mood to deal with Annie's imaginary friend. "Go back to sleep, sweetie."

Grace lays down next to Annie, hoping that exhaustion will win out over pain. She too has realized that her spiritual injury will eventually heal, but in the meantime she will experience aches that no pain killer can affect.

Annie continues, "Yah-Yah said Mama is hurt, and that he is sorry for your pain and what you went through."

Grace looks over at the innocent face of her daughter. It is so strange, Annie is honest to a fault in all matters except this Yah-Yah nonsense. "Annie, you know I'm hurt because you saw how I was walking."

"No Mama, Yah-Yah told me before you came back. He says he will be sending someone to train you so that you will never have to be hurt this way again."

With suspicion Grace asks, "Go through what?"

"The fight with the bad man."

"How - how do you know...?"

"And...oh yeah, Yah-Yah says I'm to do this."

Before Grace can react, Annie places her small hand on her mother's forehead. "Be healed."

Instantly, Grace's body flattens out on the bed as if crushed by a massive weight. It lasts only a second, and when it ends, Grace feels a lingering sense of an undescribable energy surging through her. When that passes, Grace is amazed to find her pain is completely gone. Annie lowers her head back onto her pillow, yawns and begins to drift off...

Grace stares at Annie in astonishment and for the first time begins to consider the possibility... "Annie, who exactly is Yah-Yah?

With one last yawn before falling asleep Annie murmurs, "Yah-Yah is God."

To Be Continued. Please Review.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

The Girardi home/4:30 a.m.

Will Girardi tiredly goes down the backstairs trying not to yawn. Will has never been so nervous in his life, a fact confirmed by not getting a moment's sleep last night. He has a very long and life changing day ahead of him, and depending on how today's vote goes, he will either be the new mayor or will be facing potential bankruptcy. Will has second guessed himself during this nearly year long effort at least a thousand times, but today he knows he must put on a brave smile and hope for the best, despite what the polls say.

As Will reaches the landing that overlooks the kitchen, he freezes – smile gone. Sitting at the kitchen table is a man sipping coffee, someone Will can only see in silhouette. For a moment, and only a moment, Will imagines that he is seeing Ryan Hunter back in his usual place as a welcomed guest and presumed friend. The man turns slightly and Will gets a better look, followed by a sigh of relief. Dylan Hunter - a definite surprise, and oh how Will wishes the Hunter men didn't all look so much like each other.

From next to the stove where she is flipping pancakes, Helen says, "Look who finally decided to stop pretending that he was sleeping."

Will forces the smile back. "You knew?"

"Of course I knew. I just played along hoping that if I remained quiet, you really would get some sleep. And look who was tapping at our back door the moment I turned on the kitchen lights…"

Dylan stands and he and Will share a warm handshake. Both are aware of a slight social awkwardness. Will has spent years in 'Daddy mode' protecting the innocence of his little girl… (There is no denying the nature of Joan's relationship with Dylan, after all, they spent most of the summer living together.) And even though Joan is nearly 21 and obviously in love, Will has to struggle not to ask this young man what are his intentions toward his daughter.

"Good morning Mr. Girardi, I hope you don't mind my dropping in at this hour. I figured the family would be rising early to get in a photo op when the polls opened."

"You figured right. The whole family will be at the polls when they open at six so we can be seen on the early news programs. Dylan, does Joan know you are here?"

"No sir, I wanted this to be a surprise." Dylan says as he takes a quick 'read' on Will. Of all of the Girardi family, Joan's father is the one he knows the least and the one he most wants to impress. He is relieved to find Will has no animosity and even has a wary acceptance.

"She'll be delighted. But, I thought you weren't coming in until Thanksgiving?"

"I couldn't wait. I've missed Joan so much, and I wanted to be by her side to share her celebration as her father gets elected mayor."

Although the smile remains, Dylan senses Will's shift in mood... "Well, from your mouth to God's ears."

"Is there a problem?"

Helen asks, "Hasn't Joan been updating you on the campaign?"

"When we were in California, Joan said her father's campaign had a huge lead over his opponent. By phone she said that you easily won your first mayoral debate back on Labor Day, Mr. Girardi. After that Joan didn't bring up the campaign again, as we tended to talk of more…personal matters." Dylan says with a blush.

Helen responds, "She probably didn't want to put into words how badly things have gone since then."

Will adds, "My opponent Cyrus Cornwall, from the moment he announced his campaign back in January, has been running on an austerity platform. He has been advocating hiring freezes in all depatments, 10 percent pay cuts for department heads, tax incentives for businesses to help them stay afloat and most of all, he has been saying that we need to brace ourselves for the bad times ahead."

"Wow, since January? It's like he's psychic."

"No, just a shrewd businessman who saw the iceberg further off than most. When the economy crashed in mid-September, my poll numbers sank as well. Right now we are in a virtual tie. This election could come down to only a handful of votes."

"I'm sorry to hear this Mr. Girardi. I wish I still lived in Arcadia so I could vote for you."

"Thanks, I could probably use it."

Helen glances at the clock on the wall and sighs. "I told everyone to set their alarms for 4:30. I better go up and make sure Joan and Grace are awake. Will, can you watch the pancakes?"

"Sure honey."

As Helen starts to go up the stairs she smiles and says, "Don't worry Dylan, I won't spoil your surprise."

Helen exits and Will becomes busy making many stacks of pancakes. "So Dylan, when did you arrive in town?"

"This morning. After yesterday's classes, I caught the last flight to Baltimore, hired a car and drove to Arcadia. My only stop was to get a suite at the Wentworth." Dylan says, making sure Will knows he doesn't expect to stay in Joan's room.

Will nods but says nothing more. Dylan senses a conflict within Will, as if he were debating whether to mention something he really doesn't want to talk about…

"Uh, Mr. Girardi, is there something you wanted to say to me?"

"I…wanted to know what your plans were for the day."

"Well, I plan to spend as much time with Joan as I can, especially since I have to fly back tomorrow night."

Will sighs heavily. "Dylan…I truly wish I didn't have to bring this up, but my family's future depends on me winning today. A hundred votes might throw the election one way or another."

"What are you getting at, sir?"

"The name 'Hunter' still has a bitter taste for a lot of people in this town, and as you mature, you start to look more and more like your uncle…"

"Oh, I see. I understand, Mr. Girardi. Joan will be campaigning all day, shaking hands, getting her picture taken, and it might shake a few voters if the 'nephew of evil' was hanging around." Dylan says, trying to keep a slight edge of bitterness out of his voice.

"Dylan, I'm so sorry I had to mention this. Please believe, this doesn't reflect how I feel about you. I think Joan is very lucky to have you for a boyfriend."

"No sir, I'm the lucky one, and I should have realized this myself. Don't worry, I'll make myself scarce and I won't mention this conversation to Joan."

"But how will you explain this? Joan will expect you to be with her every minute of the day."

"I'll claim jet lag, which is true. I'm barely able to stand on my feet." Dylan lies - which he use to be terrible at, but since becoming an instrument of God he has gained new skills.

At that moment a yawning Joan comes down the stairs remarking, "Oh God, I'm exhausted. What are we, farmers? Why do the polls have to open so early…"

Joan spots Dylan, a squeal of joy escapes her lips and she rushes down the stairs, leaping from the last two steps into Dylan's arms. A very, very long kiss begins…

X X X X X

6:00 a.m./Firestation 11

Campaign workers from both major parties have set up in a space reserved for today's voting, and volunteers are ready to hand out last moment campaign literature (at the legally required distance from the polls). News crews from the local TV stations and other reporters are standing by, ready to record the arrival of Candidate Girardi and his family. (Across town, there is similar press coverage for the arrival of Cyrus Cornwall and his two grown and unhappy looking sons at their polling place. No one is covering the nearly forgotten Green Party candidate, Norman Naylor). Lights snap on and camera flashes are seen as Will, Helen (carrying E.T.), Joan and Grace (leading Annie by the hand) approach the firestation. E.T., always nervous around strangers, hides her face inside her mother's coat. Annie smiles and greets everyone like old friends.

"Chief Girardi, any predictions for today's election?"

Will forces the 'campaign smile' he has grown so weary of..."We've all seen the polls and it will be close, but I am confident of a Girardi victory at the end of the day."

Another reporter asks, "Chief, some people say that after blowing such an enormous lead, even if you win, you will be unable to govern effectively."

Grace softly mutters, "What people 'say'?"

Will replies, "I trust that in hard times all political factions will come together for the good of Arcadia."

It takes all of Grace's willpower not to roll her eyes. As the family walks toward the polling station, reporters also begin hurling questions at Helen and Joan, but Grace is glad that none of them seem to know who she is. A lucky thing, too. Grace isn't sure she can restrain herself from condemning all politics as hopelessly corrupt, and saying she only registered to vote because her father-in-law is running. As Grace begins to wish she had voted by absentee ballot like Luke, she realizes she has a special shield from the prying reporters. Every time the cameras swing Grace's way, they automatically go to the adorable little girl who is calling out: "Hi, I'm Annie. Vote Girardi!"

As the reporters respond with smiles and "Aww's", the family makes it inside. As the first voters there, the Girardis are quickly rushed through the signing in procedures and are all soon at their own voting stations.

"Vote for Grandpa?" Annie asks.

"That's right, sweetie." Grace replies, barely able to concentrate on what she is doing. Grace's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts as she contemplates all of the new...insanity that has intruded into her life. Others can astral travel too with some of them working for the devil and the two sides can fight each other? Annie's imaginary playmate Yah-Yah has turned out to be God(!) and he is sending someone to...train her? And yeah, Grace remembers that 'Yah-Yah' was originally Joan's childhood make-believe friend, and what does that mean? Grace has been trying to get a private moment alone with Joan, but with today's hectic morning that has been impossible. Grace sighs and taps her ballot beside Will Girardi's name. To heck with the other clowns that are running.

Over at her voting station, Joan reads the instructions of the electronic voting machine. Seems simple enough, but Joan wants to make sure she gets it right. Even one vote might make the difference. As Joan begins making her choices, her mind automatically drifts to Dylan. What a wonderful surprise having him show up this morning, and what a kick in the ego when he claimed jet lag, apologized and headed for the Hotel Wentworth. Of course Joan knew he was lying, but thinks she has figured out why. After hearing the details of her impossibly busy day, Dylan must have thought the jet lag story would make a convenient excuse for him to be in a bedroom that she can sneak away to for a little...no, a lot of sex. But can she, dare she, sneak away on this day of all days? Dad is counting on her to get to as many polls as possible to use the fading fame of the 'town hero' to get him elected. It truly is close, and if Joan can persuade even a dozen voters, it might make the difference. But...after having seen Dylan, breathed in his scent and kissed his lips, Joan feels as if she will explode if she doesn't soon - very soon - wrap herself around him!

A buzz from Joan's phone alerts her to a text message: 'In the alley, now. Dunn.'

Joan sighs. So much for having to agonize over whether to sneak away or not. Joan completes her ballot, pushes the confirm button and looks for a way out to the alley. While the others are still voting, Joan casuallly drifts over to the back door. Checking to make sure she is unobserved, Joan exits. Immediately in front of her is a long black limousine with government plates. A man Joan doesn't know, but with the air of a government agent, opens the door for Joan. Joan reluctantly enters, giving up her resolve never to deal with Issac B. Dunn again.

"Hey I.B., long time yadda yadda..." Joan says as she notes that Dunn hasn't changed a bit since she last saw him months ago, but... "Hey, who's the new guy?"

"Agent Greene."

"What happened to Agent Brown?"

"Dead."

"What?" Joan cries in dismay.

"Killed in the line of duty."

Tears begin to form in Joan's eyes. She hadn't known Melvin Brown well, but she liked the mountainously large man with the gentle sense of humor. Joan wipes away her tears and notices the briefest quiver of emotion on I.B.'s face. It is quickly replaced by the usual stoicness.

"On to the business at hand - the return of the satanic cults." I.B. says.

"Plural?"

"We're not sure. These freaks are like cancer cells. You kill them in one part of the body and they show up somewhere else. We thought we had them wiped out, but it may be that the few survivors at the end merely cut off all contact with the other cults. It was their modern interconectiveness that allowed us to find and wipe out so many in such a short time. A few of the prisoners we took said that in the old days, and their 'old days' extend very far back, they use to avoid all but the most minimum contact with each other."

"So why is this garbage dumping on me again? It has been nearly a year since I last encountered these clowns, and I thought there were none left who knew my name."

"Yes... so we thought after the East Coast Council was mysteriously butchered at that farm outside of this town. As I recall, you claimed privacy in that matter and wouldn't explain how you became involved or how those people died."

Joan hesitates. It was the involvement of the vampire Pansy Schubert that caused Joan to keep silent in that matter. Joan swore to keep secret the existence of vampires when she needed their help while she was in L.A. last year. That oath was taken upon the life of her friend, the vampire private detective, Mick St. John. If it ever came out she violated that oath, not only would the vamps hunt her down, but Mick would be killed too.

"That still applies." Joan insists.

"Still playing games, Joan? This is a dangerous business. People die when secrets are kept."

"And when they're told. So, what's next?"

"We are questioning the two captured mercenaries you took down, but it is likely they know little of use. Usually such men are hired through an intermediary. We are hoping 'General' Smith's contacts will give us additional leads."

"Yeah...how bright of an idea was it to give Hobart Smith immunity from prosecution?"

Dunn shrugs. "The man is a useful asset. He spent years dealing in black market arms and training with foreign terrorists. The help he gives is saving a lot of lives."

"And costing a lot?"

Dunn shrugs again. "I have no mercy for our enemies, and I officially regret any...collateral damage."

Joan shakes her head. This is why she doesn't like working for the morally ambiguous I.B. Far too much of 'the end justifies the means' about the man. Still, she has walked that path herself...

"How long will my family be guarded?"

"Until we are sure of your safety."

"Really, open ended?"

"I do expect you to contribute your special...gifts to the hunt."

"Of course, but this doesn't mean I'm coming back to work for you. This is a one time thing."

"An exception."

"Exactly."

"Joan, when will you learn that life is made up to a constant stream of exceptions? I could give you access to a hundred different on-going operations where you would see the need for...an exception. Think about it Joan, don't you really belong with me?"

X X X X X

8:00 a.m./Lawndale Maryland.

At Lawndale High, a short commute from Baltimore, Jane Lane is checking off the attendance sheet of her home room class. Jane, the new art teacher, finds this a tedious part of her day but it is one of the requirements of the job. Having graduated from this very school only five years ago, Jane has found it a weird experience being a 'colleague' of the various teachers she use to reluctantly interact with when she was a student. But, the job has turned out to have unexpected perks, including a few truly gifted art students who have responded well to her teachings. Of course the most rewarding aspect of this unexpected life path has been the assignments given her by God that have helped so many people here at Lawndale High. Only a year into her training as an instrument of God, Jane has enjoyed helping others, less so the annoying but practical 'life lessons' God has thrown her way.

"Sloane...Algernon Sloane?" Jane asks as she comes to the only missing student. "Has anyone seen Algernon today?"

The few students paying attention shrug. Jane frowns at this. Algernon Sloane is on the watch list for troubled behavior, and all teachers are suppose to keep an eye out for any risky warning signs. Details are sketchy, but apparently Algernon's mother died years ago and his father met a sudden, violent end a few months back. The school psychiatrist warned that the 16 year old from Canada could have a hidden emotional build up that might erupt at any time. Gossip in the teacher's lounge has covered this topic often, but all have agreed that Algernon Sloane seems to be ordinary and harmless. All have agreed except Jane...

To Jane, Algy's behavior has been very suspicious because it all seems to be an act. Jane has no proof of this beyond an overwhelming feeling, but in the month that Algy has been here, he has been the most carefully well adjusted, easily blended in new student Jane has ever seen. It is almost as if someone has trained young Sloane on the art of being unnoticed. He has cultivated a small group of acquaintences, but no close friends. His grades are all good, but not so good that he would be labelled a 'nerd' or 'brain'. He participates in school activities, but never so much that he would be considered a 'suck-up' or a 'joiner'. To Jane's mind, anyone who tries so hard to be so ordinary is hiding something and now, he has missed class for the first time.

"Miss Cooper, please read the agenda for the day." Jane says as she hands a paper to one of the nerdy/suck ups who are always eager to please any teacher. Normally Jane rushes through the day's info sheet herself, knowing most of the students will ignore it, but she just spotted walking by a heavy set African-American custodian in a green uniform. Jane hurries out into the hall as the agenda begins...

"Bake sale/bake sale/ bake sale! The marching band announces..."

In the hallway Jane finds a patiently waiting Custodian God. "Good morning, Jane."

"Yeah, yeah - good morning. Assignment?"

Custodian God chuckles. "You're always so eager."

"My time is limited. Home room ends in five minutes, so what's the four-one-one?"

"You are concerned about a missing student..."

"Algernon Sloane - weird kid."

"You were planning to check with the attendance office, perhaps even planning to call his home to see if he is okay?"

"Right...shouldn't I?"

"No. I'd rather you gather all of his class asssignments for the day and bring them to his home after school. Your connection to the Sloane family will make this an easier matter."

"You have an odd idea about 'easier'. My being Tom Sloane's ex-girlfriend will make it really awkward to visit his parents, even if I am Algernon's teacher. Mrs. Sloane and I never got along too well."

"If this is too difficult for you Jane, you do have free will..." Custodian God says as she walks away giving a backhand wave.

Jane Lane sighs as she watches Custodian God walk away. Of course she will obey, even though she thinks God is being very passive-aggressive...

X X X X X

8:00 a.m./near the Girardi house.

Sgt. Major Jonas Blane sits in a van, half a block away from the Girardi home, watching a set of monitors that carries live feeds sent by various members of his team. One is coming from the house, and there is also one on the candidate Will Girardi as he races from one polling place to another, and another live feed covers Mrs. Girardi as she does the same. As for the main focus of this protection assignment, Joan Girardi, she was lost from view when since she ducked out the back of the firestation early this morning. Blane knows that the young Girardi woman gave them the deliberate slip, but can't figure out why. But then, nothing about this odd assignment makes sense.

While wrapping up a debriefing at the Pentagon last night, and eagerly looking forward to a reunion with his wife Molly, Blane was handed an emergency, top secret mission. As members of Delta Force (the men usually just refer to themselves as 'The Unit'), the team is use to being called into service anywhere in the world to handle 'wet' work (kidnappings, assassinations, hostage rescues and yes, bodyguard duty), but usually with a lot more background information to work with. Annoyingly, they were stuck with a Confidential Informant from Homeland Security that Blane recognized as a wanted terrorist, Hobart Smith.

The mission was simple, guard Joan Girardi (who has some sort of high status with Homeland Security) and her family until further notice. But for such a simple task, little has gone well. Arriving at the Girardi home in the middle of the night, Blane and his men realized they were too late. Two of an eight man mercenary team were already down, and the other six unaccounted for. As they secured the two prisoners, Blane realized 'General' Smith was missing and so was a pistol and equipment belt from one of the mercenaries. Leaving half of his team to guard the house, Blane and the rest used infrared scanners to trace the heat signatures of footprints leading to a nearby public park.

There Blane encountered a waiting Joan Girardi and Smith, surrounded by the mangled bodies of the six remaining mercenaries...and a lingering, foul smoky odor. When Blane tried to question Joan, she uttered a password that confirmed her high security clearance and that cut off all questioning. Smith remained mute as he fell in with Joan's own insistence on security silence. Blane had no choice but to escort Joan back to her house, secure Smith in one of the vans and begin the clean up that would hide that night's violence.

Just as everything seemed to be settling to normal, the kitchen light came on around 4:15, showing that the household was begining to stir. Alarm calls suddenly began coming through the radio as his men warned of the very sudden appearance of a young man at the back door. Before they could act, Helen Girardi opened the back door and fortunately welcomed her guest with a smile and a hug. Sgt. Major Blane spent the next hour chewing out his men for being careless while each one denied slipping up on watching his assigned sector. Blane could only conclude that whoever that handsome young man was who knocked at the back door, he used stealth to approach the house and so he must have known the unit was there. But how? And how did he get by some of the best trained and well equipped soldiers in the world?

With the family gone and the young man followed back to the Hotel Wentworth (registered guest, Dylan Hunter), Blane began to think this assignment would finally get back on track, but then the Girardi girl went missing. Hoping that she will eventually return home, Blane and the remainder of his men are guarding the house where one Grace Girardi is inside with two children...

"Snake Doctor, we have an intruder!"

Responding to his code name Blane says, "Say again Dirt Diver, approaching from where?"

"He's already on the porch, and no, I don't know how this one got by us either! He's a white male, early twenties..."

Blane adjusts the camera angle and confirms his men's alarmed report. "Snipers, get a bead on this guy. Dirt Diver and Betty Blue, move in closer. Get ready to take this guy out...if necessary."

Blane nervously watches the monitor as the unknown young man rings the doorbell. How did he get by them, and is he a threat or something as simple as a neighbor stopping by for a visit?

Inside the house Grace leaves the den where she was monitoring the play of E.T. and Annie. Although the two children are willing to play in the same room, they will have nothing to do with each other. Many attempts to remedy this have all failed as Annie and her younger aunt seem to have an instinctive, unshakeable rivalry. Glad for a little adult interaction, Grace opens the front door and finds a handsome, smiling young man. For some reason the guy seems vaguely familiar to her...

"Hello Grace."

"If you're a reporter, no comment. If you're selling something, not interested."

"No Grace, I'm here to visit with you."

"And you are...?"

The cute guy in the corduroy jacket replies, "I'm God."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

11-04-08/Girardi home, just after 8:00 a.m.

Cute Boy God stands in the doorway of the Girardi home waiting for a stunned and suspicious Grace to invite him in. On his back are two red dots marking the laser sights of the two snipers concealed across the street in a nondescript van. At the side of the porch two members of the elite unit of soldiers guarding the Girardis are prepared to leap out and tackle this stranger, who inexplicably appeared moments ago at the front door.

Grace gulps and asks, "What was that again?"

"I'm God."

"Yeah…how do I know that's true? Maybe you're some kind of a nut. Maybe…you're from the other side?"

At that moment a joyous voice loudly proclaims, "Yah-Yah!"

Grace turns and sees Annie running toward the visitor with a huge smile on her face. Cute Boy God bends down and catches Annie as she jumps into his arms. Annie gives him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Cute Boy stands and smiles at Grace…

"Well?"

"I guess that proves it." Grace says as she waves him into the house.

(As the front door closes, in the command center van parked down the street, Sgt. Major Jonas Blane radios his men, "Stand down. We have a 'friendly'.")

Grace and Cute Boy settle on the couch with Annie still in his arms. From the den E.T. approaches, curious about this visitor. Grace watches in surprise as E.T., normally intensely shy around strangers, walks up to him and hugs Cute Boy's leg. He picks up E.T. and places her on his lap opposite Annie. The normal animosity between the two children seems forgotten.

"Wow… So, God is a really cute, young white guy?"

"I don't always look like this. What I truly look and sound like is beyond your ability to experience. I take this form because you are comfortable with it. It makes sense to you."

Grace nods, surprised by how at ease she feels in'His' presence. "I'm not sure how I'm suppose to talk to you."

"Anyway you like. I prefer an honest exchange to formal 'religious' speech."

"Okay, why me? When I was in that coma, why did you pick me to give this 'astral projection' ability?"

"In short, it was a reward for you allowing me to briefly borrow your physical form. A more detailed answer is that I had plans for you, Grace. I knew you were a good choice for this particular charism."

"Charism?"

"A special ability I give to a person to help make the world a better place."

"Is astral projection an ability you give to a lot of people?"

"No, it is a rare gift, this ability to spirit travel at will. I knew that you would quickly adjust to the ability in an instinctive way."

"It took me awhile, but I thought I was getting a handle on how you wanted me to operate. But then I met that…evil kid with the same ability. What the hell…I mean, what was that about? I found myself in a viscious fight when I didn't even know that was possible."

"I never intended for you to encounter one of his kind. Otherwise I would have prepared you for that meeting."

"Then why did it happen?"

"You broke your promise."

Grace blushes. "Oh. Yeah, Luke and I finally realized that just because I could travel anywhere I wanted during my sleep, didn't mean I should. I finally got it, that I was suppose to wait on you to call for me. Luke and I promised each other that we would stop the…'joy rides' and experiments. But, I was missing Luke so much!"

"I am not here to condemn you, Grace. I understand the why of your actions, but by your free will choice you opened yourself up to a danger you did not have to face."

"Yeah, but if I hadn't, I wouldn't have been able to warn Joan…"

"Your sister-in-law was already aware of the situation. All you managed was to become injured, and then had to accept the burden of another's secret."

"And what a secret! It explains so much about why Joan is so weird. But…how did Joan become a spy, and when did it happen?"

"Grace, I am not in the habit of revealing other people's secrets."

"Oh, okay, that makes sense since you know all of them. Speaking of Joan…" (Looks at Annie.) "Sweetie, who is this?"

Annie gives Cute Boy God another hug. "Yah-Yah!"

"Right. When Annie began talking about 'Yah-Yah', Joan told me she also had a childhood imaginary friend called Yah-Yah. My in-laws confirmed that. Did you speak to Joan when she was a kid?"

"Yes Grace. In one way or another I speak to everyone. Many choose not to believe, or simply choose to ignore me. Young children are especially open to my voice, but I do not speak to all of them as 'Yah-Yah'."

"Everyone agrees that Joan stopped talking to you around age five. Why did you cut her off like that?"

"I didn't. All of the adults in young Joan's life kept telling her I was imaginary. Eventually Joan, like a lot of kids that age, bowed to pressure and stopped listening to me."

Grace winces with guilt. She has been doing the same thing with Annie. Grace wonders if most little kids with imaginary friends were like Joan, talked out of a relationship with God by adults who 'knew better'.

"Annie, I'm sorry. I was wrong about your friend Yah-Yah."

"That's okay, Mama."

E.T. looks up at Cute Boy God, points and says, "Yah-Yah."

He smiles and tickles E.T., who giggles with joy and rests her head against him - content. Grace, who knows her young sister-in-law all too well, shakes her head in amazement.

"That is like a miracle. Normally E.T. can't stand strangers, doesn't like to be touched, and I don't think I've ever heard her giggle. Can you make her be like this all the time?"

"No Grace, that would violate her free will."

"What of Annie? If I had kept at it, would she have eventually stopped listening to you the way Joan did?"

"That also would have been a matter of free will, but it is my hope that Annie and I will be friends all of her days. She is a very special child."

Annie very seriously says, "Yah-Yah is my friend - always."

"Thank you, Annie. Now Grace, I am here to arrange for the training you need so that you may avoid injury should you ever fight another one of the other side's astral travellers."

"Couldn't Annie just heal me again? By the way, can Annie heal anyone? Is she going to be like one of those preachers on TV that 'heal' long lines of people?"

"With Annie this was a special case and remember, she healed your spiritual body, not the physical one."

Grace sighs. "Then I guess I better resolve myself to training. Push-ups, jogging and judo?"

"Not exactly."

"Will you be training me?"

"No, I have someone else in mind for that task. Are you ready?"

"Now? But I have to be asleep when I travel, and what about the kids?"

"Perhaps you can trust me to babysit. Stretch out on the couch and close your eyes."

Grace obeys and in seconds she is asleep. Grace's astral form rises from her body, invisible to the children but God follows her movements.

"Your trainer is waiting just outside."

Grace nods and passes through the walls. She instantly sees the being waiting for her and gasps... "Oh crap, a demon!"

Grace flys off as fast as she can, instinctively leading away from her child this new danger. Grace looks over her shoulder to confirm the monstrous creature is following, but he is not there. Grace suddenly slams hard into something surprisingly...soft. Grace realizes she is enmeshed in a large gathering of feathers. Quickly she backs away.

"Grace Polk-Girardi, behave yourself. This is no way for one of my students to act."

"Student?" Grace asks, unable to believe her eyes. The creature before her is enormous, around 25 feet tall, he has six wings, a scary face and is completely jet black in color except for his eyes, which glow!

"Who...what are you?"

"I am an angel of the Lord God Almighty, warrior class, and your trainer."

"Trainer? Wow, I wish I had a heads up about what you looked like. Are all angels the same?"

"No, there is a wide variety, but that is not a part of your lesson. To begin, you must learn what makes you stronger and what will weaken you..."

"I'm not very big. I'm not sure how much of a fight I can put up."

"Your physical form has no effect upon your spiritual strength. You have seen that in your first fight when you defeated an opponent who could easily best you in a flesh to flesh battle."

"I thought I just got lucky."

"You did, but your instincts were good. That which most easily weakens you is fear. It can quickly drain your spiritual strength. To counter fear you must go to its' opposite..."

"Faith." Grace confidently states.

"Stop interrupting. In the spirit, the opposite of fear is love..."

X X X X X

11:00 a.m./downtown Arcadia.

In suite 309 of the Hotel Wentworth, Joan Girardi and Dylan Hunter are entwined in a level of intimacy that is greater than any they have ever known, but alas, it is not a physical intimacy. They are sitting in chairs opposite each other, holding hands with their eyes closed. They are in a form of joined meditation that is based on a biblical principle: one believer can put a thousand to flight but two can put ten thousand to flight. Although this is their first time trying this method, it is working well. With their normal spiritual awareness increased tenfold, all of Arcadia is open to them to explore. The demonic forces that routinely exist in this city are very aware of this increased power and they are nervous...they are fleeing.

The small time demons who wander about seeking whom they may influence are the first to go. Those attached in the form of demonic influence are the next to flee, but with great reluctance. It takes effort and time to gain influence over the free will of a human being, and there is no guarantee they can regain that status when this current crisis is over. But the instruments of God are hunting, and they will not take the risk that they are the target. The only ones that remain are the ones who have possessed a human. Although this is the ultimate goal of demons, to completely have a human of their own to command, to gain them their obsessive desires for sensations, the drawback is that they are locked into that human by spiritual contract. Nervously, some guide their humans into flight while others cautiously remain watchful of the danger.

In the hotel suite, Joan and Dylan have been at this for two hours, but it took some prep work to reach this level of trust and co-operation. Before arriving at Dylan's suite, Joan got from I.B. the contact number for Sgt. Major Blane. In the command van, Blane was a little surprised by the incoming call on his ultra secure satellite phone as there are only a half dozen people in the world who can contact him that way, ranging from his immediate commanding officer up to the president of the United States...

"Go for Snake Doctor."

A chuckle, accompanied by the sound of traffic noises that are unique to a bus... "Snake Doctor? Oh, how cute."

"Miss Girardi, where are you and why did you ditch the detail assigned to guard you?"

"Sorry Sgt. Major, or do you prefer Snakey? I have spy stuff to do and your guys cramp my style. I need to have a brief word with Hobart Smith."

Blane looks over to Smith who has been handcuffed to a rail in the van ever since he was taken back into custody. The Sgt. Major has no sympathy for terrorists, even ex ones, and he gave Smith little thought after he was resecured at the park earlier today.

"Miss Girardi..."

"Yeah, I know you're going to talk to me about security protocals, standard operating procedures, etcetera. I get it, I'm a naughty - naughty rogue and I should be spanked really hard. While you ponder that mental image, put Hobart on the phone. If I have to go through channels, it won't go well for you career-wise."

Blane sighs heavily as he mentally assents that 'Joan' should indeed be punished...the spanking image guiltily appears in his mind. He uncuffs Smith and secures one of his hands back to the rail. He gives the prisoner the satellite phone with a stern look of warning on his face.

"Behave yourself."

Smith nods, recognizing that the sergeant major is not the kind of man you want to tick off. "Hello?"

"Hey Hobart, got a question for you."

"What can I tell you, Joan?"

"When you were shopping me around to the various satanic cults, did you ever mention my name?"

"Of course not. How would I ever have gotten paid if I had let that slip? They would have captured you themselves with no fee to me."

"Thought so, and the ones who learned who I was that day at the farm were all killed before they could spread the word."

"So how, nearly a year later, did these remnants of the cults learn who you are?"

"That is the key question. Hey, tell 'Snake Doctor' I said: 'Have a nice day'."

Joan disconnected the call and completed her bus ride to the Wentworth. The ride made Joan a little nostalgic for her early days in God's service, and she remembered her first visit to the Wentworth when she found Adam cleaning one of the hotel rooms and entered with the mistaken idea God wanted her 'gift' to him to be sex.

This time when Joan knocked on Dylan's door, she knew she would not be having sex with her boyfriend - indulging the physical side would weaken their spiritual abilities. But at the sight of him, Joan could not help throwing herself into his arms and beginning a series of passionate kisses. Only by the greatest willpower was Joan able to break contact, and with a gasping breath, began telling Dylan...everything.

It took a long time, the truth of how Ryan Hunter died, killed by his own brother on the top of Mt. Nashman in order to save Joan's life, the mad scheme to blow up Arcadia with a suitcase nuke in order to trigger Ryan's goal of an early Armageddon, and then Joan's first contact with Homeland Security when I.B. Dunn himself led the investigation into the events of that day. Joan continued, despite breaking federal secrecy laws, because she knew that Dylan had reached a level in his training where she could no longer lie to him. She revealed the secret missions, the assumption by Homeland Security that Joan is some sort of advanced psychic, all the way up to this morning's attempt to capture Joan for a satanic cult by mercenaries and a vampire.

Dylan restrained himself from asking questions, taking in one shocking revealation after another. One of the toughest to accept was that his new stepmother, Elaine Hunter nee Lishak, was a retired spy once known as Agent 66. As Joan reached the end of her tales, Dylan could only shake his head in amazement.

"So those soldiers outside of your house are guards sent by Homeland Security to protect you and your family?"

"Yeah, and even though I.B. promised unlimited security, I know you can't keep an elite unit like that stuck here in Arcadia for a long time. In order to keep me and the family safe, I need to bring these cultists into custody pronto. I just have to hope they haven't spread my name around the world so that this doesn't keep happening."

"Of course I'll help you Joan, but tell me, does God approve of what you have been doing - being a 'consultant' for the government?"

"He hasn't forbidden it and even has encouraged me to take some of the assignments I.B. sends my way. Overall I think I've been doing good work, but there's a lot of grey area in that work. It has bothered me so much, I've tried to avoid being in service to I.B., and I know my tutor has always been down on me for having 'divided loyalties'."

"Which I know isn't true. God comes first in your life, except that time with your cousin. Agreeing to work for this Dunn character in order to protect your cousin Simon's life is understandable..."

"But I should have trusted God more. In the end it was a no-win situation, and I nearly got convicted of playing God."

"Joan, even for an instrument of God, you lead an extraordinary life."

"One that will be cut short if I can't get this current crisis under control. Ready to begin?"

Dylan took her hands and now after two hours of prayer and meditation, they have fully explored Arcadia and the immediate area for the cultists. There were a few surprises as they searched, the secrets of the entire town open to them, but they disciplined themselves not to pry into private, unrelated matters.

At one point Joan remarked, "Our tutor-angel is active, but I had to blow off my training in spiritual law because I was so busy today."

"I couldn't train either because I was with your family so early, but...I'm detecting the weak presence of another instrument of God?"

"That's Bonnie - not exactly a friend of mine. She's in her first year of boot camp and is not a player in this... Wait, I've got one."

Dylan nods, 'Two of them. They're travelling together, headed out of town. One of them is demon possessed."

"Which explains why they are on the run, but now we have a direction. Hopefully they will lead us to the others."

X X X X X

Noon/TV station WPFK.

Storm Summers checks his notes as he watches the countdown for the start of today's broadcast. Although mostly a weatherman, Storm often does human interest stories so he is not unfamiliar with the news side of the business. On election day it is all hands on deck in order to cover the day's events, and with the more experienced reporters out in the field, he has been called upon to fill in for the midday report...

"Good afternoon, this is the News at Noon. I'm Storm Summers, reporting. It's election day Arcadia, and with perfect weather, voting has been heavy. Of course the historic presidential election has encouraged one of the biggest turn out in decades, but the local elections are also of great concern to voters. This is the first local election since Arcadia lost its' city charter, followed by the Ryan Hunter scandal that further delayed the return to normalcy in our fair city. Running for mayor are two newcomers to politics, businessman Cyrus Cornwall and former police chief, Will Girardi. Both candidates are prepared to be interviewed, Mr. Cornwall is standing by at his campaign headquarters, but first, here in the studio is Will Girardi..."

Will gives his practiced smile. "Thank you Storm, glad you could make time for me on this busy day."

"Thank you Chief for coming in. You've been out going to the various polling stations, thanking campaign workers and meeting the voters. What's your impression of the mood of the electorate?"

"They're excited, and not just about the presidential race. Voters in Arcadia have been looking forward to this day far too long - the day when normal government is returned, and to this city completing the restoration of its' reputation."

"Any idea of how the voting for mayor is going?"

"I can only say I have received great encouragement everywhere I have gone, and judging by the high turnout, I expect a close but definite victory when the votes are tallied."

"Excellent. And now before we go to Cornwall campaign headquarters, our reporter Dee Dee Wong has caught up with a special campaign worker at the Riverfront Boathouse polling place. Dee Dee...?"

The monitor switches to the reporter in the field and Will breathes a sigh of relief when he recognizes Joan standing by to be interviewed. His daughter's disappearance this morning was disturbing, but the family has long accepted that Joan marches to the beat of a very different drummer. Disappearances are now accepted as routine.

"Storm, I'm with Joan Girardi, daughter of the candidate and acclaimed town hero. Joan, are you aware that this polling station is only two blocks away from Ryan Hunter's former home?"

Joan, counting on any reporter present that put together these facts would want to interview her, has made this her first campaign stop after leaving the hotel. "Why now that you mention it Dee Dee, I guess you're right. I had almost forgotten what with it being such a long time since I thought of Ryan Hunter. I suppose if Ryan had survived and gone undetected, he'd be voting here today."

"Well, fortunately for Arcadia, an 18 year old high school student caught on to the evil schemes of that madman and brought him down. You've told the story before Joan, but remind us how a teenage girl with no investigative experience managed such an accomplishment."

"I wouldn't want to bore your viewers with the petty details of surveillance and proof gathering, but the real key to my 'accomplishment' was the example set by my father. I had a lifetime of watching the best man I know approach the hard, dangerous life of a police officer with courage, dedication and integrity. Whenever my battle with Ryan Hunter became overwhelming, it was reminding myself of what my Dad would do that kept me going." (Looks into the camera.) "I love you Dad, and I know you're going to make a great mayor!"

In the studio, Will wipes away a single tear. He realizes Joan is being effectively manipulative for the sake of the campaign, but he also knows his daughter means the sentiment.

Dee Dee Wong addresses the camera, "A ringing endorsement from one town hero to her father, another hero. Back to you in the studio, Storm."

As the cameraman switches off the light, Joan breathes a sigh of relief. Let's see Cyrus Cornwall top that. As the campaign worker assigned to drive Joan around leads her to the car, Joan does her best to suppress her feelings of guilt. While the two soldiers assigned to guard her follow, Joan desperately wishes she could reassign them to Dylan. Her wonderful guy insisted she must spend the rest of the day campaigning for her father, otherwise her guilt would be unbearable if Will lost. Dylan pointed out he is a fully trained instrument of God, use to danger, and quite capable of tracking down the two cultists they have detected. Unknown to Joan, even now Dylan is driving his rental car on the interstate, heading in the direction of Baltimore...

X X X X X

Tavis MacDonald has spent most of his adult life as member of the United Kingdom satanic cult, but now he is the only survivor of that group. Altering his appearance as much as he could, and with a new identity, Tavis journeyed to America where a handful of survivors from around the world have joined forces to begin a new Council of 13. All but two are former members of other cults, with the exceptions being the kid they took in who is the son of the late leader of the Canadian council (frankly, he never would have been considered if he didn't have the unique ability to spy on others undetected), and the man who sits beside Tavis. He is a strange one, but he quickly gained dominance in the group - this man who until a few months ago had never heard of satanic cults.

He is a man with a forceful, driven personality and when he made his bid to lead, no one dared oppose him. Tavis has to admit, this 'amateur' cultist has led them with great success. As the new council grows in strength, the plan is to begin forming new chapters around the world once again. Success is guaranteed when others, sympathetic to their cause, hear the whispers that they have sacrificed an actual instrument of God to the Master. That is if they ever manage to get their hands on this Girardi girl. So far their target has been elusive, and with the mercenary team out of action and news reports verifying the girl is still free, Tavis and the new Number One went to Arcadia to deal with the situation personally. But then, for some unknown reason, the new leader became nervous - almost panicked - as he insisted they retreat from the city...

"Slow down."

"Yes sir." Tavis replies, glad that they will no longer be risking a traffic stop.

"We are being followed."

Tavis looks into the rearview mirror but spots nothing amiss. "Are you sure, Number One? I always look for a tail and I haven't seen anything suspicious. There's very little traffic, and no one seems to have an interest in us."

"He is more than a mile back."

"Using a tracer to follow us?" Tavis asks with alarm.

Number One gives a brief, rare grin. "Something like that."

"What are we going to do?"

"Look for a good place to stage an ambush. We are going to kill him..."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

11-04-08/1:00 p.m.

As Joan leaves yet another polling station (after having thanked the campaign volunteers, posed for a few pictures and talked to as many voters as she could), she immediately dials Dylan's cell phone.

"Hey Joan."

"Dylan, where are you? Is everything okay?"

"So far so good. At the moment I'm on the interstate about halfway between Arcadia and Baltimore."

As she walks toward the car, Joan glances around to make sure she can't be overheard. "Are you still following the two cultists?"

"Yeah, but at the moment I'm pulled off to the side of the road waiting them out. They're real easy to track since one of them is demon possessed. I sensed that I was getting a lot closer and realized they had stopped on the highway somewhere up ahead."

"It's a trap. An ambush!" Joan says with alarm.

"I figured. Don't worry, I'm taking very seriously the warnings you gave me. I'll wait them out until they get tired of this game. If they decide to move closer, I'll know and will leave the highway."

"I never should have gotten you involved in this."

"Joan, don't worry. This isn't my first dance with danger, and I actually know what I'm doing. Okay?"

Joan tries to keep the fear out of her voice. "Okay, but I'm warning you Dylan Hunter, if you get yourself killed, I will never forgive you."

Dylan chuckles. "I'll make a mental note: 'Getting killed annoys your girlfriend'. I better get off the phone, I need to concentrate on these guys. Love you."

"I love you so much. Please, be safe." Joan says as she reluctantly disconnects and wonders if she made the right choice in accepting Dylan's offer of help. Joan thinks of Jimmy Tubbs and shudders. If she loses another man she loves to violence, to her fault, she will never endure it…

Meanwhile…

On the interstate highway, about a mile further down the road from Dylan's position, two desperate men are pulled to the side just around a curve in the road. It is the perfect spot for an ambush, but one of them is beginning to have his doubts… Tavis MacDonald looks over to the leader of the Council of 13 and again wonders what has happened to the group's head man, always referred to as 'Number One'. Tavis has been greatly impressed by their new leader – a powerful, confident man with great orginizational skills, but now Tavis is wondering if the leader has turned coward or just crazy.

The panicked retreat from Arcadia, followed by Number One's insistence that someone is tailing them despite no evidence of that, has Tavis worried, but discipline is a strong tradition amongst the cultists. In the field, Number One commands and all obey. Still…

"You said he was only a mile or so behind us. It's been twenty minutes and no sign of this 'tail'. Are you sure he's there?"

"I'm sure." Number One says unconvincingly. Like many who are demon possessed, he is in deep denial of his control by a demon. Intellectually he has as much doubt as Tavis, but that inner voice that he cannot ignore tells him of danger.

"How long are we to stay here by the side of the road? Eventually the state police will drive by and wonder what we are up to. If they discover we are armed…"

Number One sighs. "You're right, we can't stay here. Whoever is following us is clever. He knows we are waiting for him and he won't approach, but we can't lead him back to Baltimore where the others are. He wants to find the full council."

Playing along despite his doubts, Tavis says, "Maybe we don't have to lead him back to our headquarters. The Sloane boy lives in Lawndale, just outside of Baltimore. Maybe we can lure this tail there and set up a better ambush?"

"Yes…yes, I like that idea. The one who follows will know Algernon Sloane is one of us. We can use him as bait. Back in the car."

Tavis resists the urge to ask how their tail, if he exists at all, will know the boy is also a member of their cult. For the moment Tavis decides to continue playing along, but he will be expressing his doubts about the sanity of their leader to the others when he can see them alone. As they pull back into traffic, Tavis says…

"It will take nearly three hours to get there. Will you alert the boy of our coming?"

"Eventually, but first I will contact the others. They can use our private plane to fly to Arcadia and capture the Girardi girl. We can still stage the ritual sacrifice of an instrument of God to our Master."

"We hired professionals to try a kidnapping and they failed."

"Then worse case scenario, they can just shoot Joan Girardi."

X X X X X

4:00p.m./Lawndale, Maryland.

Jane Lane drives her beat up old van into the most exculsive neighborhood of this upscale suburban town. It has been a long time since she has been to the Sloane house - not since her own high school days when she was dating Tom Sloane. At least she doesn't have to worry about running into Tom. The last she heard he is living in Manhattan and working at the New York branch of his father's stock brokerage firm. As Jane parks and then walks toward the front door, she hopes it will be the maid who answers. Tom's father, Angier Sloane, will still be at work, but the one Jane dreads meeting is Tom's mother. Like all of the Sloane family, Kay Sloane was from old money and had social expectations that Jane and her Bohemian family were never able to live up to. Although technically polite to any guest in her home, Kay's tone and and mannerisms always loudly proclaimed to Jane: 'You are not good enough for my son'.

The door opens in response to Jane's knock and it is all she can do not to gasp. "Tom...?"

"Why Jane, what a pleasant surprise. Please come in." Tom says with a genuine smile.

Reluctantly, Jane enters. "I'm surprised to see you. I thought you were living in New York."

"I was. I settled into the firm's training program and was resigning myself to becoming another successful, boringly rich broker when the stock market crash ruined those plans. Dad decided to scale back the New York office, and I'll now be working in the main branch in Baltimore."

"Making an early day of it?"

"No, I just got into town last evening. I won't be starting until Thursday. But what brings you by, Jane? Not that I'm not delighted to see you."

"I'm here to see Algernon. He missed school today and I was concerned. I also brought the class assignments he missed."

"Wait...Jane Lane, whose hatred of Lawndale High was only exceeded by her disdain for the teaching profession, is now a teacher at her old school? How did that happen?"

"God only knows...I mean, after graduation I realized I needed a regular source of income until I was able to support myself with my artwork. The job of art teacher opened up and practicality won out over principle."

"As it so often does in life. Algernon is up in his room, the one next to mine."

"I remember." Jane says as she follows Tom upstairs. She hopes she isn't blushing as she recalls some of the make-out sessions in Tom's room that they use to have back in the day. Jane takes a quick glance at Tom and suppresses a sigh. He is even better looking than he was in high school, and Jane has to remind herself NOT to flirt with him. Even though Tom was her first serious boyfriend, he is also the guy who made a move on her best friend without bothering to formally end their relationship first. Jane is surprised how much that irritates her even after all of this time. 'Remember, you eventually forgave Tom and Daria'.

As if picking up on Jane's mental cues, Tom asks, "How is Daria doing?"

"She's in Hollywood writing scripts for TV. She and my brother Trent are a couple now." Jane says, watching for Tom's reaction.

Tom chuckles. "Daria Morgendorffer writing for TV? I would have expected serious, critical books about political corruption or corporate greed."

"She's good at TV writing and it pays well. Practicality over principle." Jane says as she finds herself curiously pleased that Tom doesn't seem to care about the Daria/Trent hook up.

"This is Algernon's room. I better go in first. I only met him yesterday, but I know it's never wise to suddenly enter a teenage boy's room."

Jane smiles. "I remember from having two older brothers."

Tom knocks a couple of times, pauses for an answer and then knocks again. "Algernon? Hey cousin, I'm coming in..."

Tom enters and Jane hears him calling his cousin's name a few more times. "Jane..."

Jane comes in and finds Tom giving a sleeping 'Algy' a few vigorous shakes with no result. "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. He was complaining of generalized pain last night and still seemed weak this morning. Mom said he could stay home from school today and he's been resting up here ever since. Algernon! Algy, wake up!"

First aid training was a part of Jane's teaching certificate, and she checks Algy's vitals. "Pulse normal, breathing is regular. He seems to be just deeply asleep."

"No one sleeps this deeply."

"Does he use drugs?"

"My parents had him tested as soon as they got guardianship. He was clean, but that was a month ago. Like I said, I only met him last night. Who knows what bad habits he's picked up since he began attending a public high school."

Jane doesn't bother to deal with Tom's attitude toward Lawndale High. All of the members of his family attended elite private schools and have a slightly snobby view of public education. "The school shrink warned that we should keep a close eye on Algernon due to the recent tragedies he has endured. He doesn't hang out with any of the fogheads or other users. As near as I can tell, he's always been clean. Maybe we should call for an ambulance?"

Before Tom can respond, Algernon suddenly sits up in bed and gives a huge yawn. "Wow, I really needed that... Hey, what's going on? Miss Lane, what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you, and to bring your missed assignments."

"Thank you Miss Lane, that was above and beyond the call of duty."

Tom says, "Algy, we had a devil of a time waking you. Are you okay?"

"I'm feeling better, cousin. A long rest seems to be just what I needed. As for waking me up, I did take a sleeping pill to help me sleep. I'm not use to such medication and I guess it hit me pretty hard. Sorry to have worried you. Miss Lane, I'm certain I'll feel well enough to be back in school tomorrow."

"We look forward to your return, Algernon." Jane says with a polite smile, but she can't shake the feeling that weird Algy is lying to them.

Tom and Jane leave the bedroom and Algernon breathes a sigh of relief. That was too close. A good thing he returned to his body before they called in medical experts. He did indeed take a sleeping pill earlier, but that was so he could astral travel. The risk is, while sleeping his body is almost impossible to awaken when his astral form is out of it's fleshly shell. But he had to take the risk in order to redeem himself with the other members of the council. Algernon has just returned from a long trip to Arcadia, and he has vital news about the Girardi girl and her unexpected allies...

Still moving stiffly, but with less pain, Algy goes to his closet and from the back of it he removes a locked strongbox. Inside there are a collection of disposable cell phones and a silenced pistol. He dials the number of the council's leader...

"Report."

"It's me...Number 13. I just completed a reconnaissance of the Arcadia area. The subject is travelling from one polling station to another. I saw the list of her stops and memorized it. I can tell you where she will be during the next two hours until the polls close."

"Excellent. The other members are now in Arcadia and will be grabbing the subject. Knowing her schedule will make that easier."

"There is a problem, Number One. There are guards on the subject's home, other family members and on her as well. They are in civilian clothes, but judging by their weapons and the way they talk, they are military."

Number One grunts his disapproval. "I can guess who they are, and that is a problem. How many are guarding the subject right now?"

"Only two."

"Then we can still manage this. An assault by the remaining ten should do the trick."

"There is one other thing. I overheard a conversation by the subject to her boyfriend. It sounds like he is tailing you on the interstate."

"Already aware of that. We are entering Lawndale and need a good spot for an ambush."

"Here. At the rear of my relative's estate there is an isolated wooded area near the back service road. There's a clearing that has a play area from when my cousins were young. In the surrounding trees you could hide an army."

"Sounds perfect, but we will need a tethered goat."

"A what?"

"The bait traditionally used to lure a tiger. We will be in the woods waiting for this 'boyfriend', and you will be the bait that lures him into our ambush. Be sure to arm yourself. Ten minutes."

"Yes Number One..." Algy says before realizing his leader has already disconnected. There can be no question of his obedience. Algy sends by text to Number Two the schedule of Joan Girardi. Nervously, Algy slips on a jacket, hides his pistol underneath and heads for the back stairs...

In the foyer, Jane and Tom have paused for a goodbye. Jane says, "It was really nice seeing you again, Tom."

In response, Tom suddenly leans in and gives Jane a deep kiss. Jane is startled, not just by the kiss but by her reaction. Between her busy career and working for God, Jane hasn't been near a guy in months and she has always been so attracted to Tom...

The kiss lingers but eventually Jane makes a fingertip shove back and Tom breaks contact. Jane makes a minimal protest, "Hey..."

"Hey yourself. Did you really mind?"

"It might have been nice to ask my permission first."

"Much easier to say you're sorry than to get permission. Shall I beg for forgiveness?"

Jane tries to be annoyed by Tom's confident smile, but who is she kidding? That old attraction never totally went away. It takes Tom only a moment to resume the kiss, which goes on much longer and Jane feels herself becoming delightfully excited. No...she needs to think clearly. Sensing her shift in mood, Tom breaks off the kiss.

"Would it be totally insane if I were to ask you out on a date?"

Jane catches her breath, trying to calm down which isn't easy with Tom so close. "Probably. It didn't work out between us the last time..."

"High school stuff. Hopefully, we've both grown up a bit. So...Friday night?"

"Let me think about it. I'll call if I decide yes."

"Looking forward to it." Tom says as he opens the door.

Without thinking, Jane gives him a quick kiss goodbye and heads for her van. She is glad Tom can't see her face - the big smile and the deep blush. Jane tries to remind herself that she came to the Sloane home on an assignment for God, not to hook up with an old boyfriend. Unless...that's what God intended? How can she be sure when He is so vague about his instructions. Distracted, Jane is all the way to her van's door before she notices the very handsome young man standing there. Surprised, Jane backs away not sure what to think.

"Don't be alarmed. My name is Dylan Hunter, and I am a fellow instrument of God."

X X X X X

In the command van parked down the street from the Girardi house, Sgt. Major Jonas Blane speaks into the scrambled radio... "Snake Doctor to all units, hourly report."

The first to respond is Sgt. McBride. "This is Whiplash with the candidate. He has just arrived at the St. Mary's church hall polling station. Everything is okay."

Next... "This is Cool Breeze, and 'Joan' is still behaving herself. She is just leaving Peach Street Elementary, and the next stop is the Oak Street Community Center. No problems."

The only female member of the team adds, "Red Cap reporting, the wife is now leaving Temple Beth Israel, next stop, Arcadia High. A-OK. Wait... Mrs. Girardi has stopped, frozen in her tracks. She seems unaware of her surroundings. Does anyone know if she is epileptic?"

Blane responds, "It's not in her background info. Red Cap, does she need medical assistance?"

"Not sure...no, she's moving again. She just took out her cell phone."

"Alright, all units stay alert. Snake Doctor out."

Meanwhile, Joan checks her cell phone for caller i.d. "Hey Mom, how's it going?"

Helen whispers back, "Joan, I only have a moment alone. I just had a vision of gunmen shooting and lots of blood at Arcadia High. It's my next stop. What should I do...call your father?"

"No, Dad isn't a cop any more, and even if he was, he wouldn't respond well to one of your visions. Tell you what, I'll go to Arcadia High and you take my next stop at Oak Street Community Center."

"Joan, is this safe? What can you do?"

"Not sure, but I have a better chance of handling the situation than you do. School is already out, so the kids won't be in danger. I'll have to adapt to whatever I find."

"Joan, please be careful."

"When am I not? I'll call as soon as I know anything."

The two Girardi women disconnect and tell their respective drivers the change in plans. As they drive away in unexpected directions, their soldier guardians hastily report the variation from the schedule. Blane mutters his displeasure but instructs his men not to interfere. He is begining to hate this weird assignment and wonders what Joan Girardi is up to now. As sergeants Bob Brown (Cool Breeze) and Hector Williams (Hammer Head) follow Joan, they are unaware that lingering far back, another car is following theirs. In that car a pair of the cultists are hastily reporting to Number Two of the unexpected schedule change. The other eight cultists were waiting on Oak Street, waiting to ambush Joan Girardi and her two guards, but now that plan is blown. Where is the Girardi girl going, and why the sudden change?

Twenty minutes later, Joan arrives at Arcadia High, and finds the polling station is set up in the school's gym. Normally Joan would be glad to see the line of people waiting for their chance to vote, but realizes everyone is in danger from an unknown source. Leaving her volunteer driver waiting in the car, Joan walks toward the school and as she does, Joan recalls the last time she was at her old high school. It was Halloween night a year ago, and a demon possessed man was there to slaughter the kids attending a school dance. That night six law enforcement officers died before Joan could stop the demon. Now, there are only a couple of unarmed school guards present. Most of the students have left, but a few are volunteers handing out campaign literature. Joan spots a familiar face...

"Principal Chadwick."

"Hello Joan, it's always a pleasure to have you visit the old alma mater. How goes the campaign?"

"Good reactions from all of the voters I've encountered today. Hopefully that's a positive sign for my Dad. This is quite a turnout."

"Yes, there's been a steady stream of voters all day long. It's the best turnout I've seen in years, but that's probably due to the excitement over the national election. It's looking good for Senator Obama."

"Yeah, judging by the polls, McCain doesn't stand a chance. Well, duty calls. I have hands to shake and voters to persuade."

"Good luck, Joan. Your father has my vote."

"Thanks." Joan says as she wanders toward the people standing in line. Joan takes a spiritual read on the situation and finds no immediate danger. She is aware of her two guards discreetly parked across the street, and no doubt irritated by her sudden change in plans. Hopefully, this is one time when her Mom's visions will be wrong. With a practiced smile, Joan begins working the crowd of people, encouraging them to vote Girardi...

"Hammer Head to Snake Doctor, we are at Arcadia High and all seems routine. Maybe there was a mix up in the schedule?"

"Maybe. Advise me of any other changes." Blane says from the command van. Even as he ends the conversation with his men, Blane hears a bemused chuckle from the back of the van.

"I bet this is the point when everything starts to get interesting." Hobart Smith says, still handcuffed to a railing.

Blane looks back, surprised. Smith has been silent for hours and the sergeant major had almost forgotten about his prisoner. "What do you mean?"

"When Joan Girardi suddenly pops up in a place, you know things are about to go horribly wrong for someone. It happened to me, and I'd be surprised if something big wasn't about to go down."

Blane stares at Smith, realizes the 'General' is trying to manipulate him, but also has a hunch that he should pay attention. Blane calls out on the radio, "Betty Blue, takeover here. Dirt Diver, join me. We're going to Arcadia High..."

Back at the high school, half a block further back from the army guards, two cultists watch Joan as she mingles with the voters. "Number Ten to Number Two."

"Go."

"Subject is at Arcadia High. Still two guards only."

"Keep watch, we're on our way. Be prepared to take out the guards upon our arrival."

And back to Joan, who is shaking hands... "Hi, Joan Girardi. I'd really appreciate your vote for my father, Will Girardi. Hello sir, I'm..."

"Oh, I know who you are, Joan." a middle age man says with a wink.

Joan breathes a sigh of relief. "Finally, you show up. It's been a hectic day and I was hoping to see you sooner than this. Hey, I remember this version. You once spoke to me on the bus about Wall Street."

"Yes Joan, this seemed an appropriate choice for the day."

"Are you in line to vote for my Dad?"

"No Joan, that wouldn't be fair. I'll be leaving the line after our conversation."

"Okay, so what are your instructions?"

"No instructions, Joan. You've been handling the situation with great skill. I would remind you that due to the election day activities, the athletic field is completely deserted."

Businessman God walks away, giving the backhand wave. Joan would call out what did he mean, but at that moment she senses the approaching cultists. There are two already here, and a lot more are on the way. Without hesitating, Joan breaks away from the crowd and runs for the athletic field on the far side of the school. Joan realizes her enemies have caught up with her and God has arranged a situation where she will have the best chance to survive. Best chance - not a guaranteed one.

X X X X X

Back in Lawndale, Jane Lane stops her old van on the narrow service road that runs behind the large estates in this area. She and this Dylan Hunter character exit next to the locked gate that leads to the back of the Sloane estate. Jane is still trying to wrap her mind around the many things Dylan has hastily told her...

"You're sure Algernon is one of these satanic cultists?"

"Positive. He's in there with the other two, waiting to ambush me."

"But he's only sixteen!"

"Jane, in order to be in this cult, that kid will have committed at least one ritual murder - probably a lot more."

"Oh God, I can't believe this. I always felt that Algy was weird, but this...?"

"Jane, I'm sorry I involved you in this situation. You are far too new at working for God to be exposed to such things, but I needed your help. When I go in there, drive away. This is very dangerous and I don't want you involved any deeper."

"Can't you just call the police?"

"And tell them what, that I'm an instrument of God chasing down members of a dangerous cult?"

Jane smiles. "Yeah, they'd lock you in a loony bin for that. Even I haven't told anyone about what I do for fear of the same thing, and what I do is child's play compared to this. Are you sure I can't help some more?"

"No! Just get me inside and leave."

Jane nods and goes to the back gate of the estate. "The fence is alarmed, so you can't climb over it. The gate has a number code, but it has been years since I used it - back when I was dating Tom. Hopefully, it hasn't changed..."

After punching in four numbers in the keypad, the tall metal gate 'clicks' and then swings open.

"Thanks. Now go, I'll be okay."

Jane nods and watches as Dylan enters the estate and is soon out of view amongst the trees. Jane returns to her van but pauses - reluctant to just leave. She climbs up to the roof of the van, stands and searches for the clearing... There, where the old swing set is located in the small bare spot in the wooded area. Jane sighs as she sees Algernon sitting on one of the swings, waiting with his hand in his jacket pocket...

Moving with the stealth taught him by his tutor angel, Dylan slips from spot to spot, using the trees and lengthening shadows to conceal himself. He is also using a meditation technique that will make it harder for the demon to detect him. It is a fairly minor resentment demon, and for it to have successfully taken over this man, it had to have found a receptive audience to its' lies. Dylan pauses at the edge of the clearing, noticing that the kid is trying to conceal a pistol with a silencer. Now where...yes, the second cultist is a few yards away. The demon possessed man is further back in the trees, allowing his underlings to take the most risk. The man has no lack of courage, but the demon is nervous.

Moving silently, Dylan works his way behind the hidden cultist and with one punch, takes him out. Slipping the fallen man's gun into his belt, Dylan begins closing in on the demon possessed man. This will be harder as the demon is aware of his presence. Using his skills at stealth, Dylan comes closer and closer...

"Hey, are you guys still there?" a nervous Algernon calls out.

His concentration momentarily broken, the demon becomes instantly aware of Dylan's position and aims his weapon...

To Be Continued. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

The Sloane estate, shortly after the end of the last chapter…

The man known as Number One takes aim on Dylan Hunter, ready to kill without mercy. Suddenly from the service road comes the loud blast of the horn on Jane's van. It is only a momentary distraction, but it is enough for Dylan to duck as the bullet is fired. Number One curses as he realizes his shot has missed. Now where…? In the next instant Dylan seems to pop up from nowhere and successfully kicks the gun out of his enemy's hand. The two men square off to fight hand to hand.

Dylan assesses his foe, a very large, strong man with training in the martial arts. Dylan also notes the contrast between the panic of the resentment demon within and the courage of the man. This will not be an easy fight as the demon adds strength to an opponent who is already very strong. Blows are exchanged, blocks are made and both men endure damage but the trend of the fight is clearly going to Dylan. Wincing from a couple of harsh hits, Dylan knows that one or two more strikes against his enemy will put the big man down. Before he can move, a bullet strikes a tree nearby, missing Dylan's head by an inch. He has no choice but to flatten to the ground, cursing his carelessness in having forgotten the Sloane kid.

Algernon Sloane continues to spray bullets in Dylan's general direction – his panicked shooting not really coming close to his intended target. As for Number One, his demon master has had enough and he runs away as fast as he can. Dylan gets a glimpse of the large man exiting through the rear gate of the estate and feels frustrated that he can do nothing to stop his foe. Dylan knows he must wait a few more seconds because at the rate Algernon is firing, he will be out of bullets soon. Moments later Algernon stops as he has to reload. Dylan rushes up, pulls the gun he captured earlier, and trains the weapon on the teenager…

"Hold it kid, it's over. Don't make me shoot you."

There is a limit to how much danger even a dedicated cultist is willing to take. Algernon raises his hands in surrender. Dylan waves him over to the unconscious body of the other cultist that he managed to knock out.

"You get to carry your friend. Head for the gate."

Algernon, strong for his age, picks up the stunned Tavis MacDonald and easily carries him. "He's not a friend. I know his name, but to me he is Number Eleven. Just another member of this obviously failed council. And to think, I respected and even feared a man who would run away when his comrades were in the middle of a fight. Number One is just a coward."

Dylan smiles. "He has…internal issues."

They reach the gate and Dylan is relieved to see Jane Lane is waiting for them, unharmed.

"The big guy ran right by me. He got into a car further down the road and sped off like a bat out of hell."

"An appropriate analogy. I'm glad to see you are okay, Jane. Thanks for blowing that horn at the right moment. You saved my life."

"Glad to help. What are we going to do with these two?"

"We need a place where we can leave them tied up until Homeland Security can take them in. I have the number of a high ranking official, and I'll use this guy's cell phone to text the 'Come and get me' message."

"I know the perfect spot at Lawndale High where they can be locked away and where no one else will accidentily stumble upon them."

"There's such a place at a high school?"

"Oh yeah, trust me, I know the school like the back of my hand."

X X X X X

At that moment, Joan Girardi is running as fast as she can across the campus of Arcadia High, glad that she knows the school like the back of her hand. Even as she runs, Joan is on her cell phone…

A few blocks away, Sgt. Major Blane along with Sgt. Mack Gerhardt (Dirt Diver) are travelling toward Arcadia High. He has just received a message from the men guarding Joan that she is on the run and they are following. Blane's satellite phone rings and he sighs. How does he know who this will be...

"Miss Girardi?"

With gasping breaths Joan says, "Hey Snake Doctor, I got a problem. I need your guys to back off and wait for my signal."

"If you are in danger…"

"I am, big time, and if we are going to avoid a bloodbath, I need you to trust me and do what I say."

"Miss Girardi, my job is to guard your safety…wait, I'm getting another message from my men." (A brief pause.) "They report two armed men are chasing you!"

"I know, and there are a lot more coming. Have your guys take cover so they are not spotted. I'm headed for the athletic field and I'll let you know when I'm ready for you guys to move in."

"There is no way I'm letting you take this risk on your own."

"Really? How do you like the sound of 'Corporal Snake Doctor'?"

Blane hesitates. He doubts Joan can arrange that drastic of an effect on his career, but he does know she has a high security clearance and the ear of Issac B. Dunn from Homeland Security. Such a man could easily get him kicked out of special forces and transferred to say... a desk job in Alaska.

From the back of the van Hobart Smith adds his two cents. "You should listen to her. Joan has the ability to turn around even the most desperate situations. In one night she went from being my prisoner to wiping out half of my organization."

"Alright Joan, but try not to get yourself killed. That wouldn't be good for my career either. Keep on the line." (Into the radio…) "Cool Breeze, Hammer Head, back off and take cover. Wait for my signal."

Sergeants Brown and Williams hear the message and reluctantly obey. They take cover in some bushes at the edge of the athletic field and moments later two armed men run by their position in hot pursuit of the young woman they are suppose to be guarding. It takes all of their discipline not to disobey and help Joan.

Meanwhile, Joan has reached the far end of the field where a tunnel leads down to the underground locker rooms beneath the stands. With concrete walls on both sides and overhead, with a ramp leading down, Joan seems to have trapped herself. Removing a set of lockpicks from her bag, Joan tackles the first barrier, a tall metal gate. As she works the lock, Joan can't help but remember that it was here she and Judith once saw Lars Closterman kissing the school's drug supplier, Teddy Marks. The gate swings open and Joan closes it most of the way, blocking it with the stun gun she has been carrying all day. With the electrodes touching the gate, Joan switches on the gun. 'A shock for anyone who touches this.'

As Joan runs down the ramp, Sgt. Brown reports to Snake Doctor, "Cars are arriving and more armed men are exiting and joining the chase. The Girardi girl is trapped in the tunnel leading down to the lockers. Can we assist?"

"Negative. We are one minute away. Wait for us…"

Joan has reached the end of the tunnel where two steel doors block her path. Joan again begins working on a lock. She does her best to concentrate, but Joan knows she is timing this very close. If she doesn't succeed in the semi-darkness of this tunnel, then she is trapped and will die. Joan hears a man's scream, and realizes the first of her pursuers has touched the gate at the front of the ramp. The lock clicks and Joan swings open the door. She can't resist looking back and sees one man down, twitching from his electrical shock, but the gate is open and the second man is aiming a gun at her. Joan ducks as a bullet goes by, missing her slightly. Crap, that was close! Joan enters the locker room area, slamming and locking the steel door behind her.

Breathing hard, Joan mentally gives thanks that Judith once pursuaded her to sneak down here to get a glimpse of the football team as they were taking their showers. Joan hears a loud group of men arriving. Soon they are pounding on the door, trying to get in. She hears a shot ping off the steel door followed by the groan of someone being wounded by the ricochet.

"Stop shooting, you fool before you kill us all. Number Five, watch this door in case she comes out this way. The rest of us will circle around to the street level entrance to this area."

Satisfied all of her pursuers are now in the tunnel, Joan calls out on her cell phone, "Now, Snake Doctor."

Joan distantly hears a voice shouting, "Federal officers, throw down your weapons!"

Out on the athletic field, the four army sergeants have the ten cultists pinned in a trap they cannot escape. They can only go through the narrow gate one at a time, and every time they try, bullets from silenced pistols force the enemy back into their hole (the first man out was wounded in the shoulder). Sgt. Major Blane works his way around to the stands above the tunnel entrance and calls down to the trapped cultists…

"Give up or I start lobbing grenades into that tunnel!"

There is a brief period of mumbling between the trapped men before they begin coming out, hands held high in surrender…

X X X X X

9:00 p.m./Girardi campaign headquarters.

A crowd of supporters mingle about, waiting for the next news update. Dylan Hunter enters, searches the crowd and quickly locates Joan. Through the crowd they rush toward each other and eagerly join in a long, long kiss…

"Oh God, I'm so glad to see you safe." Joan cries, tears in her eyes.

"Me? You were the one who was in real danger. Your text said you caught the other ten cultists?"

"Well, it was actually the soldiers from The Unit guarding me who did the actual capturing. Homeland Security swept in and took them all away with no one the wiser."

"The same with the two I captured with an assist from a first year instrument of God. We left the two I caught in an equipment shed on the roof of the local high school. There's a lot of potential in that Jane Lane girl. Hey, I'm sorry I blew it by letting this Number One guy get away."

Joan shrugs. "Couldn't be helped."

"But he's still out there! This isn't the kind of guy who will count himself lucky and just give up."

"I know. No doubt he will start organizing, looking for any other surviving cultists, recruiting new members until he has another one of his damn councils of 13. A few months from now I may have to go through this all over again."

"I let you down."

"Dylan, stop that. This is the life we share as soldiers in 'His' army. We don't always win every battle. We do our best and live our lives in between assignments, knowing that danger is a part of the deal. Although, I was more scared about your safety than my own."

"And I felt the same way. At least you were able to spend a lot of the day campaigning for your dad. I don't see anyone celebrating, so is it bad news?"

"All of the polls are closed, the votes counted and Dad finished with a thirty vote lead over Cyrus Cornwall."

"Then it's over? Your dad won?"

"Not exactly. With the vote so close, we have to wait until all of the absentee ballots are counted. That's why it is taking so long. All of the other elections in the area have been settled. The city council is picked, ol' P. Lloyd Lewis won again as our congressman, the city went solidly for Obama…"

A voice calls out, "Hey, quiet down! The news report is back to local coverage…"

From the TV: "And we finally have a winner in the tightly contested race for mayor of Arcadia. With all precincts counted and the absentee ballots tallied, WPFK News announces the new mayor, by a margin of 145 votes, is…Cyrus Cornwall! We now go live to the winner's headquarters…"

The crowd of Girardi supporters groan and boo the image of the winning candidate as he begins his victory speech. At the front of the crowd Will and Helen exchange a hug and a few whispered words. Will reluctantly goes to the microphone set up for his own victory speech, but anticipating this outcome, he had two speeches prepared…

"Friends, supporters and my dear family...how can I adequately thank you for your efforts? I know we all hoped for a different outcome, but the voters have spoken. Now, it is our duty to do our best to support the new mayor and bring healing to our city in these troubled times. I look forward to Arcadia's recovery and rapid return to prosperity. Once again thank you for your support, I will always remember fondly the friends I have made during this campaign, and that means all of you."

The crowd cheers as Helen joins Will for a last wave goodbye. Soon they are amongst the crowd, shaking hands and giving personal expressions of gratitude. A TV news team records the scene and the reporter does a brief wrap up from the "loser's headquarters". Joan, with Dylan in tow, tries to make her way over to her father, but she is delayed by an incoming text... 'In the alley, now. Dunn'.

Joan sighs. "Doesn't the man have the decency to wait until the dust settles? What am I saying, of course he doesn't. Dylan, I have to step outside to meet I.B."

"I'm going with you. I want to get a read on this man who thinks he owns my girlfriend."

"Okay, but remember, officially you know nothing about me and Homeland Security."

"Got it. Officially, I'm clueless."

Joan and Dylan work their way through the crowd to the back door and soon are in the alley. They see the long government limo parked nearby but they both hesitate with concern...

"Do you sense him?" Dylan asks.

"Yeah, it must be the Number One character, and now that he's close, I know who it is. I should have guessed as soon as you told me the man had a resentment demon inside of him. Can you...?"

"I'm on it. You deal with the spymaster."

They share a brief kiss and while Dylan slips away into the darkness, Joan heads for the limo. The back door is opened for her and Joan gives a friendly nod to I.B.'s new right hand man slash flunky...

"Agent Greene."

"Miss Girardi."

Joan slides into the backseat next to Dunn and gives him a minx of a smile. "Why I.B. Dunn, long time no see - all of 15 hours. Now what could you possibly want with little ol' me?"

Dunn frowns, a natural expression for him. "I have been given the initial interview reports with the 12 cultists that were captured. They all have a consistent story about you, Joan."

"Oh...? Now what could those looney-toons be saying about yours truly?"

"They say the reason they were after you is because they believe you work personally for God. That you are what they describe as 'an instrument of God'. They even say that is why you were involved with the destruction of the satanic cult here in Arcadia last Christmas. Supposedly Hobart Smith was trying to sell you to them so that they could ritually sacrifice you to the devil."

Joan chuckles. "My, what vivid imaginations. And do you believe...?"

Dunn snorts with derision. "Of course not. As you said, these men are looney-toons. Smith even confirmed that knowing their particular style of insanity, he tried to con them into the instrument of God story in order to rip them off. Well, where we are locking them up they'll never get a chance to tell their crazy story. Imagine, grown men mistaking your simple psychic gifts for some sort of divine connection."

"Can't put anything past you, I.B. So, I'm guessing this meeting isn't actually about the cultists?"

"Only to provide you a little laugh about their insane delusion, and to let you know we are still looking for the man they insist on calling Number One. The reason I wanted to talk with you Joan is to offer you your old job back."

"Where I'm under your total beck and call? Sorry, but that agreement expired when my cousin Simon died. Our deal to keep him out of combat is gone, and I have no desire to be your 'whistle up when you want me girl'."

"Not even if I can offer you another deal to your liking?"

"Ane here we go. This has to do with my Dad?"

"Your father's employment prospects are rather bleak. It isn't easy for a man of 53 to start over when his only experience is as a cop. Of course he does have the part time job I arranged with Homeland Security..."

"Which you are now going to withdraw unless I co-operate?"

I.B. shakes his head. "On the contrary, your father's supervisor raves about the quality of work Will Girardi does and hopes to secure more hours from him. What do you say, Joan? A safe, full time job doing background checks with good pay, benefits, a chance for promotion and even a pension - all his on my say so."

Joan sighs. "If you really think my Dad is right for the job, then offer it to him. Don't make it a condition of me working for you."

"Joan, if your father wasn't qualified I wouldn't be willing to make the offer no matter how much I wanted your services. However, there are lots of qualified applicants. His name can only move to the top of the list with my help, and you know the price of that."

"Then my answer is 'No'. Dad will land on his feet eventually, and I can help with the bills if I have to, even though that would kill my Dad's pride. But, I'd rather risk that than be your lacky again, I.B."

"Joan, am I really that hard to work for?"

"Yes. You're an obsessed man who is so goal oriented, you lose track that it is people you are using to accomplish your goals."

"Are you saying I don't care for the people who work for me?"

"To give you due credit, you care about their safety. Otherwise, you are oblivious to how you affect their lives."

"Harsh. I admit the job is uppermost in my mind..."

"How did Agent Brown die?"

"What has that got to do with anything?"

"Just making a point."

"He was looking into the satanic cult case when his small, private plane was blown up while over the ocean. We never recovered the body. Now why...?"

"Agent Brown was your right hand man for years. He held a high rank in the organization, and commanded the respect of those under him, especially since it was assumed he was so close to you. But, on the first day I got a government i.d., you gave me higher clearance than him. Brown had such a high rank, he should have been running investigations on his own."

"He sometimes did."

"On your whim. Otherwise, he was your driver, your bodyguard and flunky. Did he fetch coffee for you?"

"On occasion. What is your point, Joan? I've never treated you like that."

"Only because you see my 'gifts' as unique. Did you ever think about how much Agent Brown must have resented the way you treated him? That he could be building up such a level of resentment that he might be open to the persuasiveness of...others. Like the captured satanic cultists he was questioning?"

"What are you saying, Joan."

"That the leader of this latest Concil of 13, the 'Number One' you are looking for is actually former agent Melvin Brown."

"No, that's not possible. A man like Brown would never betray his country, especially to join such a bizarre group of men."

Joan sighs. Now that Brown is nearby, she can read him clearly. His frequent contact with captured cultists exposed him to their beliefs and the demons that linger near such men. One, the resentment demon, found a receptive audience with Brown and the man soon became possessed. The cultists' tales of their long history included legends about instruments of God. Prompted by the demon, it didn't Brown long to latch onto the idea that Joan was such a person - one that must be killed in honor of his new master, the devil.

"I.B., he's less than two blocks away, and judging by the distance, he must be planning to use a sniper rifle."

"If that's true, why didn't Brown shoot you the moment you stepped outside?"

"He would have, but there is one target in this world that he wants more than me. He's hoping that you will step outside of this bulletproof limo for even a second so he can kill you. Failing that, he will settle for me when I go out there."

Dunn tries not to believe, but he knows Joan too well to doubt her word. I.B. makes a call on his phone... "Snake Doctor, a possible sniper two blocks straight ahead from my position. Take no chances, this man is deadly."

Out in the dark, Sgt. Major Blane and his right hand man Sgt. Gerhardt exit their van and proceed with haste to the location they have been told about. Sure enough, hiding in the alley two blocks from the limo is a man concealed behind a dumpster with a sniper rifle trained on Dunn's car. Unknown to them, Dylan Hunter has worked his way to within jumping distance of Number One. Dylan is about to leap on the man when he hears...

"Drop your weapon!"

Melvin Brown doesn't hesitate as he swings the rifle tpward the men from The Unit, but they have the drop on him. Two simultaneous bullets from silenced pistols strike Brown and he slumps to the ground. Dylan rushes forward, his divine duty to perform. As Brown is gasping out his last breaths, Dylan commands...

"Foul demon, by the power of Almighty God, I cast you into to hell, never to return."

The resentment demon howls its' dismay as it is cast down and a moment later Agent Brown dies - sealing the only way back into this world for the demon. It is trapped in hell forever.

Blane and Gerhardt reach the scene, recognizing Dylan as Joan's boyfriend. Both stare speechless at what they have seen, unable to think clearly about their next move...

X X X X X

Later that evening in the Girardi dining room, the family is gathered, plus Dylan, and Grace has prepared a late supper for everyone. Everyone picks at their food, not hungry despite the long day. All have run out of things to say, and with the kids upstairs asleep, a gloomy mood settles. Grace breaks the silence...

"I guess I better start packing. Annie and I are flying back to Boston tomorrow."

Will responds, "I'll be glad to drive you to the airport. It's not like I have anything else to do."

Helen quickly adds, "Grace, thank you so much for staying here the last two months. We couldn't have gotten by without you pitching in. We all appreciate the sacrifice you made being away from Luke."

Grace nods, "Yeah, I have been missing my geeky husband. I can't wait to...uh, see him again."

"I understand." Helen says as she gives Will a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "And Will, I'm going to allow you just 48 hours to mope before you start to plan your next step in our future."

Will smiles. "Yes dear, I'll start the job hunt right away. But at 53..."

Will's cell phone rings. He checks the caller i.d. and is obviously surprised... "Good evening Mr. Mayor, and congratulations on your win. (A pause.) Yes sir, I too am proud that the campaign never went negative. (Another pause.) That's right, Acting Chief Johnson retires in January. If you are looking for a replacement, I highly recommend... What's that? Me? I'm flattered. No, no, I don't need any time to think about it. The answer is a definite yes. Fine sir, I'll talk to you tomorrow."

The family waits, excited by the anticipated news...

"I got my job back!"

There is a loud cheer and hugs all around.

Helen says, "Oh Will, this is the best news possible, and I promise I will never again complain about any level of risk the police chief takes."

Joan adds, "Dad, this is great news but why would your opponent offer you back the job of police chief?"

Will shrugs. "During the campaign Cyrus and I had the opportunity to talk on several occasions, and it never became hostile between us. He always said he respected the job I did as police chief, and it looks like he meant it."

Grace asks, "So everything is going back to normal?"

Will replies, "More or less. Cyrus was serious about his austerity message during the campaign, so I'll be facing a ten percent pay cut, and I'll have to run a department with a temporary hiring freeze. It's going to be tough, but I have to admit, I'm looking forward to getting my badge back."

"Congratulations, CHIEF Girardi." Dylan says.

"Thank you, Dylan. Hey, this calls for a celebration and we just happen to have a bottle of champagne in the refrigerator in case I won."

Helen says, "Which in a way, you did."

As Will and Helen head for the kitchen, Joan gives Grace a quick wink and takes Dylan's hand. She quickly leads him out to the front porch. They begin a long, passionate kiss...

Joan moans with pleasure. "You know, if we slipped away to your hotel suite, I don't think anyone would mind."

"You don't want to join in on the celebration?"

Joan giggles, "I have my own type of celebration in mind. Finally we can be alone with no election or weirdo cult to worry about."

"Yes, but it was tragic that man had to die."

"Agent Brown? Yeah, that was tough, especially for I.B. He actually thought of Brown as a friend - at least as much of a friend as I.B. will allow himself to have."

"I'm glad you won't be working for Issac Dunn anymore."

"Well..."

"Joan?"

"I agreed to listen if he should call me for help, and I would decide on a case by case basis."

"Why? From what I've seen of this Homeland Security connection, it's a waste of our time and training. I hated using spiritual persuasion on those two soldiers to get them to keep secret my involvement."

"You're sure they're going to go along?"

Dylan nods. "It seems these Delta Force guys often keep to themselves details of what they see and do. I guess in their line of work they encounter a lot of weird stuff. Not as weird as seeing me expel a demon, but they quickly saw the wisdom in not putting something like that in their report. It wasn't hard to convince them to co-operate. But Joan, why continue with this spy nonsense? We have our own work to do."

"Mostly it's a matter of not locking a door I may want to open. There have been times when my government connections have proved useful, and God has even okayed some of my missions. Despite the grey nature of the job, there are often good ripples. Okay?"

Dylan responds by taking Joan into his arms and hugging her. "Whatever you decide, I'm behind you 100 percent."

Joan rests her head against Dylan's chest and sighs. For the first time in a long time all seems right with the world. "Do you remember the first time you held me like this?"

Dylan nods. "The first day we met you invited me to your dad's 50th birthday party. We stepped out here to get a little fresh air, you were upset and I held you in my arms. Even then I somehow knew I loved you."

"And I thought you were the sexiest guy I had ever seen, and I really liked being in your arms...still do."

Dylan steps back, smiles and drops to one knee. He pulls a small box from his pocket and Joan holds her fingetips to her mouth. He opens the box and Joan feels tears forming. It is the same ring he used to propose a year and a half ago. After all of this time, after all of the ups and downs they have been through, he never gave up hope...

"Dylan..."

"Joan Girardi, I love you. I've always loved you and I always will. Joan...will you marry me?"

THE END

I hoped you enjoyed this Joan of Arcadia/Daria/The Unit crossover. This story ends my imaginary fifth season which consisted of: HALLOWEEN, THANKSGIVING, BIRTHDAY, TIS THE SEASON, NEW YEAR, GROUNDHOG DAY, VALENTINE, SAINT PATRICK'S DAY, SPRING BREAK, MEMORIAL DAY, INDEPENDENCE DAY, LABOR DAY AND ELECTION DAY. All reviews are greatly appreciated, and feel free to review this story and the season as a whole. I especially want to thank Charles, Samoa and Jillian for their consistent feedback - it really helped me to continue.


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